And again.

Scream...

"Halo" by Soil continued as Token Weed stepped out from behind the curtain, the Asylum title held high into the air. It's silver glistened off of the lights as Token pounded his chest for a moment before continuing on his way down the aisle. He reached the cage door and flipped his hand as an asylum attendent tossed him a microphone.

"I

AM

THE

FUCKING

GREATEST!"

Token shouted into the microphone as he held the title into the air, the fans continued to cheer as he paraded the title around the cage. It was quite plausable that the man who held the title at the moment had the footing to become the greatest. A huge decisive win over Steve Christ in which he showed little to no offense is damn good backing. Token continued on his rampage as he brought the microphone to his lips.

"ANYONE! Anyone in the back can step out here and try to take this from me!" Token stated as he slammed the title on the ground. "Man, woman, midget, dog, cat, insect, Mike Renner, I do not FUCKING CARE!" Token shouted into the microphone as he continued on. He stared around and waited patiently, staring up at the entrance ramp.

"Electioneering" by Radiohead kicked up as Nicole Carson became visible at the top of the ramp, dawning her all white fighting attire, her bag shined in the sun.

"So Williams, anyone? Anyone who wants to try to take that belt from you can?" Nicole stated as she smiled a bit. Weed nodded his head, his arms crossed in defiance. "Yes Nicole, I said man, woman, cat, or a dog. Which I'll classify you under the latter," Williams stated as he grinned onward to the top of the ramp.

"Funny Sean, funny. Just remember I'll be seeing you in the main event." Nicole stated as Token brought the microphone up to his smiling lips. "Yea, and maybe in the back later on sweet thing." Token said as he winked and blew her a mock kiss. Nicole kept walking tossing the middle finger up behind her.

The cautious whisper of a 5 foot 6 inch ebony goddess fell unto Damon’s intuitive ears, leading him to quickly scan both ends of the lower level passageways. With the acknowledgement that most certainly they were not followed, he reached up to gently caress her entire left cheekbone with his thumb. Withstanding the ever probing eyes of his female companion, his visage could only bring about a soothing feeling of reassurance. His facial expression had done what mere words could not, allowing him to slide his comforting hands down to the nape of her neck. Her eyes & body would eagerly succumb to the complete subtlety of his touch.

“If you’re not down for this, then that’s cool…cause I’m not into making you do anything you don’t wanna do…”

His words would find themselves scattered by the immutable power of her kiss. Running her hands across his cleanly shaven scalp, her angelic touch rivaled that of any expensive set of satin sheets. Using a mere fraction of his strength, the 6 foot 5 inch Asylumite hoisted her at a level where she would straddle his athletically sculpted midsection. Wrapping her legs tight , he used one hand to unsecured the steel hatch before welcoming her to the romantic confides of an unoccupied maintenance room.

Enter Duchess Marie Hunter, mother of 2 and the fiancée of a up & coming prize fighter, Maurice ’The Cannibal’ Tolliver. For quite some time, this lovely 27 year old female, has been living a considerably happy relationship…That was before she had discovered a pair of condoms, missing from his dresser drawer. She was well within her right to confront him about this grievance but she had told herself that ’she would need to require more substantiating proof’ . The truth she would so desperately seek came into the form of observing her husband-to-be, ‘bumping uglies’ with her babysitter from the safety of an unmarked car…

‘Let me move this shit off the counter’

With one stern sweep of his arm, he would audibly spread the clutter along the dullish gray concrete floor. His innermost lust began to consume him as he would aggressively massage her breasts and erect nipples with her tongue. Listening the sporadic breathing ebbing from her lips, drove him to lift and seat her atop the wooden surface. The integrity of her clutches would match the escalating beating of her heart. Using his right arm as a brace, the Chicago native gently cupped the back of her head while savoring the taste of her honey coated breasts.

Two weeks ago, she would subject herself into drowning out her sorrows at the local bar & grill. Accompanied by her most trusted friends, she was beginning to delve into the depths of her rage; Anger…Betrayal….A Lack of Self Worth…The very things that would torment her emotionally…That was until an opportunity had presented itself to her…

Her Baby Phat Blue Jean Jacket slid off the counter & unto the floor as Damon used his free hand to caress her ample thigh. Allowing her to bury her nails into his almond brown skin would only provoke him to act out his carnal mentality. Her belt buckle became the first casualty of ‘war’ as it would be flung backwards against the opposing wall. Using her own power, Damon’s Black Wife Beater Shirt would be quickly rendered to shreds.

‘…Where’s the camera, baby?’

In-between the continuous series of panting, he would confess towards the camera’s location with each primal grunt. The sounds of her pants being unzipped, led her to reciprocate the favor. Her eyes attempted to focus on the flashing red light atop the miniature camcorder. It was a gift that she had bestowed to her fiancé during their 2 year anniversary together. Today he would turn 28...

…Having found a consoling ear, in her time of need, her newfound ‘friend‘ would become the focal point of her free time. Between them, he refused to make any misleading advances nor did appear demanding of her time. She would later discover that her happiness was all that mattered. He would meet her children, whom have embraced him…Her friends greatly approved of him & her fiancée was once his enemy from high school‘s past…

...Perfect…

…AHHH!!! SHIT! …GODDAMN YOU, BLACK MOTHERFUCKER!!!…UGN!!! …UGN!!! …YES!!…

Physically educating his student in Art of Infidelity, he began to punish her with dreaded ‘Splash Mountain Tongue Technique.’ Using his massive palms, he would secure her curvaceous backside into his meaty clutches for support. Her Purple Bra and Denim Jeans were left strewn along the floor as Damon buried his face deep below her cleanly shaven pelvis. A slight breeze swept underneath the door, summoning the goose bumps to surface. Her grip around Damon’s bald head became more difficult to maintain. Her constant squirming led the Flatlined fighter to lift and suspend her against the wall, allowing her legs to dangle helplessly over his heavily toned shoulders.

...The will is strong with this one…

“Payback can be a cold bitch“ would usually serve as a proper analogy for this situation but who‘s counting anyway? Whichever one suits you best, apply it at your own digression…but for the record, Damon‘s mind would wonder towards the safety of her 2 siblings. Amidst his usual fucking spree, a random lapse, would occur…Remnants of familiar situation coming full circle in the purest sense of mental recollection…

…Put it in my mouth, daddy…

Using his tongue to savor the remaining condensation, dripping from his fingertips, before gazing into her soft hazel eyes. The definition of equilibrium became foreign to her sultry lotioned knees. She would softly demand that the camera needed to assume a more revealing position. Damon would oblige her, personally commandeering the portable device. It was his turn to assume the role of student but she would mention that his place was in the worn ataman chair. Taking his place as her King, she reach forward & lay hands on the turgid Sword of Masculine Fury. The expression on her face told it all; She wasn’t ready.

...Fear not, fair maiden for this Weapon of Mass Destruction wasn’t hiding from anyone…

With the ’special’ tape still rolling, Damon offered a mischievous smirk as he toyed with the camera’s focus.

Happy Birthday, Baby…

From this vantage point, he was able to capture the devilish glint of in her eye…The retaliatory smirk as she playfully ran her tongue along her lips before they became engorged by the ominous girth held within. The feverish trickle of saliva would form from the corner of her lips as they would continue to slide in the utmost rhythmic fashion. Instinctively, Damon would oblige by wrapping her ponytail around his Right hand & wrist to further aid with his own demise.

Weakened by the preplanned assault, Damon began to murmur to himself mentally…

‘…Ah yes, the mind numbing ‘Collapsing Star Throat Attack …Reputed for its ability to induce Charlie Horses to the unsuspecting…A rather potent technique indeed…’

His focus became lost with the flashing red light…

Donovan Vs Inmate
(Black Tournament Fight)

"I Disappear" by Metallica followed on the P.A. system and out stepped the Asylum veteran, a merciless suplex machine that was looking to introduce this rookie to the Asylum. The Inmate glared at Donovan as he approached the Asylum cage. Burton knew that Donovan had no clue of what he was in for tonight. Tonight was going to be a learning experience…

The Inmate stepped into the cage and bolted for Donovan. He met a surprised Donovan with a vicious right hook to the nose. Donovan fell to his knees as the Inmate hovered over him. Donovan looked up but was only met with another hard punch to the face. Donovan staggered back still in shock. This was not his territory. Burton was relentless and flung Donovan through the air with an overhead belly to belly suplex. Donovan came crashing down into the side of the cage. Donovan kneeled there for a few seconds trying to regain himself meanwhile the Inmate was slowly walking over to him.

“You fucking tormenter…”

Donovan yelled out as he dragged himself up. Donovan believed that everyone on Earth was a tormenter sent from God to punish him and now he wanted to fight back. He was tired of being shit on. Donovan lashed out and jumped at the Inmate but was only met with a knee to the face followed by a swift kick to the ribs. The Inmate couldn’t help but laugh as he looked down at Donovan. The Inmate wasn’t too worried about advancing in the Black Title Tournament… no that was already in the bag. Right now he was just looking to teach this rookie a little lesson. The Inmate dragged up Donovan by his hair and positioned him for another belly-to-belly suplex. The Inmate went for the throw but was met with a massive head butt from Donovan. The Inmate fell backwards holding his nose. Donovan pursued with massive boot to the head that sent Burton flying over the cage wall. Donovan’s eyes had a fire in them now. Now it was time to fight. Donovan leapt over the cage and landed on Inmate with a pair of knees.

“I will get my payback!”

Donovan screamed it as he went to town on the Inmate with a wave of kicks to all parts of the Inmate. Donovan stepped back from the Inmate and grabbed a nearby chair. Donovan set back ready for the Inmate. But Burton saw it coming a dodged the chair shot. Strike 1. Strike 2. Strike 3 by Donovan. The Inmate snatched the chair from Donovan’s grasp and lit him up with it.

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

Donovan collapsed the arena floor.

1

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3

5

6

“Now shut the fuck up.”

The Inmate said as he grabbed Donovan and dropped him down with a massive vertical suplex. THUD. Donovan rolled around on the arena floor is a great deal of pain but the Inmate did not stop with just a vertical suplex. No not at all, a beautifully executed head and arm suplex onto Donovan’s head followed it. Suplex after suplex the Inmate punished Donovan. However, Donovan did not stop he slowly crawled to his knees by using the Inmate’s leg. The inmate shook his head as he stared down at Donovan but he didn’t shake his head for too long because his face turned bright red as his nuts became close and personal friends with Donovan’s fist. The Inmate curled over in pain as Donovan got to his feet. It was now time for payback for everything Donovan had felt. Donovan grabbed the chair and delivered a vicious blow to the back of the Inmate’s head. The chair now resembled a piece of modern art. Blood started to pour from the Inmate’s head as Donovan searched for more weapons. A nearby fan threw a stop sign that clanked the ground at Donovan’s feet. Donovan punched on it and eyes the Inmate. The Inmate had just gotten to his feet but was meet by the stop sign to the back.

SMACK!

“Mother fucker!”

The Inmate yelled as he fell back to the ground. Donovan flung the stop sign aside and jumped on top of Inmate. Releasing a flurry of punches Donvan began to bludgeon the veteran but that didn’t last for long as the Inmate flung Donovan off of him. Donovan and the Inmate both got back to their feet at the same time and eyed each other. They both sprinted for one another but Inmate came out victorious with a massive clothesline that floored Donovan. Donovan bounced on the ground as fell from the clothesline. The Inmate’s eyes surged with anger now. He was not going to be embarrassed by this rookie. The Inmate threw Donovan into the outside of the cage and began to open up on him with a flurry of body punches that pinned Donovan to the cage wall. Donovan coughed up blood as the Inmate showed no sign of stopping. Left right left the punches keep on until the Inmate connected with a massive upper cut that put Donovan on the floor.

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16

Donovan got up to the surprise to the Inmate. The Inmate rushed at Donovan but was given a drop toehold into the cage wall for his troubles. Donovan staggered over to the guardrail and grabbed a table. Donovan positioned it right outside of the cage and grabbed Inmate. Donovan rammed the Inmate into the cage wall few time and then dumped him back into the cage. Donovan followed after the lifeless body of the Inmate and pulled him back up. Donovan positioned the inmate between his legs and picked him up for a shoulder high powerbomb but Donovan didn’t want any old powerbomb no. Donovan ran towards the table positioned outside of the cage and threw the Inmate out of the cage through it. The count began.

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14?

The Inmate slowly got up as an out raged Donovan flew over the cage onto the Inmate but the Inmate was wise and caught Donovan with a massive spine buster onto the ground. Donovan’s head made sick sound as it smashed into the concrete floor but the Inmate wasn’t going to let this be the end of match. Oh hell no. He was going to finish this off right. He dragged Donovan to the back of arena. It was time to make this fight span the globe. The Inmate threw Donovan into a brick wall and the looked up at a small ladder leading up to a small balcony section that was ten feet from the floor. The Inmate didn’t hesitate and started to climb the latter but he had made one mistake. Not punishing Donovan enough. Donovan followed the Inmate up the ladder oblivious to Inmate. The Inmate reached the balcony and looked down for Donovan but was met with a solid punch to the eye. The Inmate fell backwards as Donovan got up to the balcony. Everyone in attendance could tell what was going to happen from there. Someone was about to take a teen foot fall to the concrete and whoever did was for sure going to be the loser…

...or at least that's what the fans had assumed, things didn't quite transpire as they had expected.

Donovan suddenly found himself falling backwards, but not to the arena floor. A force from behind had grabbed him and yanked him backwards into the crowd and to safety, Tyler Burton looked up just in time to see the individual responsible for making the save.

Sebastian Thompson.

The next thing Inmate saw was Thompson's fist flying toward his face, landing with enough force to stun him backwards and ultimately off the balcony to the arena floor with an absolutely sick thud as he handed amongst the scattering fans.

The twenty count was inevitable and Donovan had picked up an Asylum win, Sebastian Thompson dusted off his hand with a smirk and left the scene as a confused yet victorious Donovan stood to the sound of "Being Me" by Coheed and Cambria.

“Yeah, but she did lose Bill you know,” By this time another set of ears had picked up upon the conversation at hand. The massive frame of Sylo stepped into view and both men gulped.

“Who?” Grunted Sylo, “Were you just speaking of?” He snarled a small bit, the memory still stung deep down inside though he thought he had finished it once and for all. How could she be here? And with him...he would find her and him both and finish this thing...this time there would be no escape.

“J...Jade and B..B...” Sylo roared cutting him off.

“If you don’t stop stuttering I will knock your fucking teeth out of your asshole you sniveling piece of shit,” He snarled once more. “Now, where the fuck is she?”

He pointed down the hallway and Sylo didn’t say thank you, nor did anyone expect him too as he stormed away. Moments later he found himself in front of a door trying to be passed as oak but to him it looked like plywood. With one swift kick the door flew open and before him stood a woman with dreadlocks.

“Who the fuck are you?!” He snorted as he stared at the woman in front of him.

“More like who the fuck are you? First you storm into my dressing room then you ask me who the fuck I am? You sure do have some balls you big blue smurf!” Jade stood her ground, now in a fighting position. It didn’t matter that Sylo outweighed her and stood taller than her...after all he was just another pathetic wrestler.

“Fuck you I’m looking for that bitch Jade,”

“I’m Jade,”

“The fuck you are!” Snarled Sylo.

WHAM!

Her fist connected with his jaw sending it flying to one side. A small trail of blood walked it’s way carefully down his massive jaw and dripped to the cement floor below. Sylo could only laugh as he shook his head.

“My mistake,” He muttered and turned walking away. Jade, stunned by what just happened stood there...staring...just staring at the beast as he moved out of sight.

Karen Pembridge Vs Thanh Vactor
(Black Tournament Fight)

“Unreal” by Soil started up in the arena and the fans in attendance started going nuts because they knew it was time for the British lassie to make her way out to the ring. Karen made her way out from the back with her usual attire on but with an additional item on this time, a brace on her right ankle. The brace was to help protect her broken ankle she received from the fight with RHW last week. The brace wasn’t going to help much in protecting the injury or even helping with the pain but it was better than nothing. Karen was ready for the pain though, she was ready to endure whatever she had to when it came to winning this match to advance in the tournament. It was a chance she’d been waiting for since she came to the Asylum and she wasn’t about to let a broken ankle stop her. Karen made her way down to the cage and entered. She walked over to the far end and started stretching while waiting for her opponent to make his entrance.

“Needles” by Seether hit the speakers and the fans in attendance were impartial to the arrival of the silent assassin. Thanh made his way out from the back decked out in his usual black karate pants and taped up hands. He had a cold stare on his face that made you know he meant business. Thanh continued his slow methodic pace to the cage and finally entered, never taking his eyes off his injured opponent. Thanh walked around inside the cage a little bit getting warmed up and finally the ref signaled for the match to start. It was time for the battle to begin.

Both opponents were slow to start out the match. Neither of them were willing to charge the other and make a mistake and give their opponent an opening. Karen knew she was at a slight disadvantage because a lot of her arsenal relied upon her quickness and legs and those things were going to be hard to use with a broken ankle. Thanh just stood still on his side of the cage and watched his opponents every move. He was waiting for her to make the first move to measure up how well she was going to be able to use her right ankle. After a few more seconds of both fighters just standing there the crowd was starting to get restless and let the fighters know their displeasure with a chant.

“FUCKING FIGHT ALREADY!”

Karen took the fans chant to heart and charge at Thanh as best as she could with her broken ankle. She attempted a flying back elbow to Thanh’s face but he easily side stepped the move and Karen crashed to the mat. Thanh knew Karen wasn’t going to be much of a challenge with her broken ankle but he admired her desire and courage to fight for what she wanted. Karen hobbled back up to her feet and looked at Thanh with a pissed off look in her eyes. Thanh decided it was time to get down to business and quickly charged at her and delivered a running pump-kick straight to the chest of Pembridge sending her flying back in to the cage. Karen bounced off the cage and launched forward with a clothesline to knock down the charging Thanh Vactor. Both competitors were now on the mat breathing heavy from the few blows each had received.

Karen finally got up off the mat on to her knees and crawled over to Thanh and quickly went in to a shin choke on the silent assassin. Thanh quickly started clawing at the leg of Karen to get it off of his throat and to stop the choke but Karen had all of her weight on him so it was kind of hard. Thanh finally started to throw punches in to Karen’s rib area to get her to let go. After five hard blows to the right side of Karen’s rib cage she rolled off of him and started to get to her feet. Thanh quickly kipped up and nailed Pembridge in the face with a spinning heel kick sending Pembridge right back down to the mat. Thanh then stayed on the offensive by picking up Pembridge and delivering a gruesome looking uppercut to the face of Karen Pembridge which caused her to stumble backwards. Thanh measured her up then delivered a hard standing side kick to her chest which sent her flying in to the cage again.

Thanh quickly backed up a few feet and stared at Karen for a second. He then took off full speed at Karen and launched himself in to the air and delivered a dropkick to the stomach of Karen who was still laying against the cage. The move smashed Karen in to the cage and you could hear the air rush out of her. Karen let out a slight groan as she crumpled to the mat and Thanh returned to his feet.

Showing predatorial instincts, Thahn began to stalk toward his downed opponent waiting as the lassie slowly pulled herself up with her fingers interlacing in the steel cage mesh. As she got up half way a hard boot sent her falling back down to the mat. The crowd began to grow antsy, as Thanh reached down and grabbed handful of Pembridge's hair yanking her back to her feet, Thanh reached around to grab his prone victim, only to receive a vicious mule kick doubling him over. Thanh's grasp of Karen's hair loosened, giving her room to reach around grabbing Thanh's head and nailing him with a limping variation of a bulldog! Karen grimaced as she pushed herself back to a vertical base only to stumble right into a legsweep by Thanh dropping her face first on the mat. Quickly Thanh was back up on his feet and he grabbed onto the braced ankle of the lassie, yanking her further away from the cage wall.

Karen insanely began kicking with her non-injured ankle, but was consistently missing, with a harsh turn Thanh twisted her broken ankle causing Pembridge to break out into loud screams. Thanh flipped the lassie onto her stomach and began to focus his attention on the ankle as he stripped it of the protective brace. He got down and began to apply an anklelock, getting down further increasing the pressure, the screams of Karen were dampered as she clawed away at the mat trying to find the leverage she needed that lay at the cage wall, biting deeply onto her lip as the ref asked for her submission. She shook her head defiantly as the silent assassin tried applying the hold harder. The ref continued to ask if she submitted but as her eyes filled past their quota with tears she shook her head, all she heard was the crowd getting up and showing their support for her. Thanh got up on his knee to allow him to stop her from clawing, but from somewhere far deep the lassie found an extra amount of strength as she grasped the cage, Thanh let go and charged it with a pump kick aimed for the back of her head, but he missed as she dropped back down to the mat. She turned quickly on her knees as Thanh charged forward, and due to her injured state Karen was forced to reach into the gutters of her move book, by nailing a low blow onto Thanh. He took a few caution steps backwards, as Karen yanked herself up to a stand gritting her teeth, she fired back with a windpipe smash to the throat of Thanh causing him to stumble further backwards. Thanh charged forward only to get three knees to the midsection and a side DDT! The crowd roared as Karen rolled to her knees after hitting Forgetting the Past.

Thanh rolled slowly towards the center of the ring, and kipped up to his feet. Bouncing from one foot to the other he observed Karen, as he looked down at her as she still struggled to get back to her feet. She got up on all fours, and Thanh showed his patience as he simply watched her causing the crowd to start to step up in their show of negative appreciation. Thanh nodded silently acknowledging the situation, that Karen was near useless in her arsenal on where he stood. He was in the deep part of the pool challenging the non-swimmer. Sweat dripped from Karen's forehead as she powered he way up to one foot and then finally she stood, the crowd chanting her name repeatedly, she knew she went through many wars in tA, and sometimes she overcame just about everything to win, she was sure now was one of those times. She began to charge forward, but soon realized how much of a mistake it was as she began to stumble when she ran right into a vicious roundhouse kick by Thanh that damn near knocked her head off. Like a serial killer simply on another kill Thanh failed to show much emotion as he peered down on Pembridge, he charged forward leapt into the air and let out a vicious stomp to Karen's ankle!

The crowd buzzed as Vactor yanked Karen up to her feet, her head kept nodding due to the massive pain from her ankle, Thanh grabbed onto her head, right knee, left knee, right knee... jumping roundhouse kick! The lassie dropped down to the mat a victim of the Blackout. Her loyal fans gasped in shock at how easily she was handled by Thanh, but held out their hopes as they saw her come back from much worse, but when the refs count reached 10, they sighed a sigh of dissapointment.. as they found out Karen Pembridge wouldn't win the Black Title Tournament.

Damon’s eyes exhibited a completely euphoric state as the succulent red bone female, continued to enchant him with her spell for the last 20 or so minutes. The camcorder in his hand became more difficult to hold with each passing moment but he remained dedicated to ‘weather the storm.’ He watched as a literal bridge of saliva, from her chin to hilt of his sword, dangled before descending to the floor. He could not help to admire her dedication & work ethic towards her craft…

…‘Complete Ignorance Is Bliss’…

Working to re-gather his senses, he reluctantly pulled himself away from his captor.

‘What’s wrong?’ She asked while wiping away the dribble from her bottom lip. Damon reared his head back in relief.

‘I’m gonna need a minute…to let the blood rush back to my legs. Shit…’ His comment promoted both a bout of feminine laughter and confidence in her abilities. After hitting pause on the recorder, she rose up to allow Damon to cradle her in his arms but his thoughts lied elsewhere;

…His money situation and the imminent confrontation with Joe, concerning his whereabouts…

…Whether he should be taking his pills within the next 30 minutes or stave off for the remainder of the night…

‘What are you thinking about? ‘ She asked while running her fingertips across the bulbous tip of swollen humanity.

…’Huh? ….Oh…Nothing’…’Um…You’re kids at the crib?’

She shot a curious glance directly at him, wondering what brought this out in the open. Thoughtful however, odd at the mere mention of it…

…’They’re o.k. …My sister’s got em’…He’s probably fucking her too…Why?

The urge to express his concern failed to escape his lips for he realized that this was not his affair to concern himself with. In demand for a reasonable response, the Asylum rookie would negate the conversation by shaking his head. Her comforting palm came to rest against his chest, supplying that needed salve to sooth the wounds of a broken past. Unbeknownst to her, his concerns would continue to smolder…for another time.

In one swift motion, Damon cradled the woman in his arms and stood to his feet. Having draped her arm across his chest and over his shoulder, she nestled her head against him.

‘What are you doing? She asked. Making his way towards the north side of the room, he decided to put her down and place his hands against her shapely hips.

‘Halftime’s over, baby…Turn that camcorder back on and spread that ass across the counter’

‘You sure that door’s locked because I need my privacy?

Damon silenced her with a welcoming downward slap across her ass, followed by a flirtatious smirk. Heeding the orders of her commanding officer, she leaned forward and widened her stance as she rested her abdomen against the elongated ledge of the counter. She cooed as vertical slap sent ripple throughout her rotund derriere, followed by a horizontal. Her Obsidian colored hair would cascade down toward the middle of her back before being swept aside. He reached over and placed the camcorder against the small of her back while breaking the seal of a shiny gold condom wrapper. Duchess caught a glimpse of what was taking place and placed her hand gently against Damon wrist.

‘Whoa…Hold on…Hold on…I…You gotta promise me that you’ll go slow, o.k?’ Her demand came with a relatively serious tone yet the former Marine, who offered confirmation with a passive nod. ’You know I’m not used to that yet…’

Her response led Damon to pause & raise The People’s Eyebrow while putting his right thumb in his mouth.

‘So what are you used to then‘?

‘Durex’

Damon rolled his eyes and scoffed at the answer.

‘Ah, you‘re used to your man wearin’ those young boy condoms, huh?… He replied while quietly applying the contraceptive barrier. ‘…It’s all good, baby…Ain’t not my fault he can’t roll it back far enough…Set the camera over there…Yeah.’

As she nervously braced herself for the worst, Damon would convert the extended length of hair, around both his fist and forearm into a makeshift harness…

’Betta Brace Yourself…’

*pop!*

A prominent smirk followed along with the sound of her exhaling as Damon forcefully plunged his moistened digit deep within the depths of her tainted region. She looked back with her jaw agape before staring at Damon’s eyes with a strained look.

‘You cool?’

A uneasy nod would follow. This was the first time a thumb was introduced to her puckered sphincter.

‘Alright then…Now turn your ass around, girl…I’m driving back here’

With the bounty of hair taunt within his grasp, the brown skinned Marine would use his forearm as a means of leverage while physically asserting himself into the dripping recesses that is better known as the ‘Moisture Mosh Pit‘.

A painful grimace and a slight gnashing of her teeth, led Damon to pull her in closer at a slower pace;

Don’t worry, baby…I’m gonna make a soldier out of you yet…

Frank Minio Vs Jakob Gianni

"Don't look now... you're becoming... Careless."

Followed by an opening chorus.

"I plug the ladies in, Mom kept the babies in,
do right do right do right, Do right do right Do right."

"Blood" by El-P Followed by the lights on the entrance when the leader of Team Flatlined emerged, a Hiatus Frank Minio, complete in fighting gear, black boxing tights, fists wrapped, and a bandana on his head covering his dark brown hair. The five o'clock shadow on his face showed he had let himself go a bit but the way he carried himself down the ramp proved it wasn't that long and he was still in the Asylum to throw beatings like baseballs.

The low guitar strings playing over the P.A. cut off Blood as the lights dimmed again. Frank watched the entrance like a movie screen. Soft singing broke the guitar's strumming.

"who could call my name without regretting
who could see beyond this my darkness
and for once save their own prayers
who could mirror down just a little
of their sun....

HOW COULD THIS GO? SO VERY WRONG?"

When the music reached and up play, Jakob Gianni walked out with his hands over his face. He brushed his fingers through his light brown hair and raised his arms in the air while staring at the Heavens as the lights flickered. Gianni walked in tempo with "Tonight's Music" by Katatonia as he headed towards the awaiting Asylum, and Frank Minio.

Frank stepped back to the far edge of the Asylum as Gianni climbed in, leaning against the railing of the Asylum. He hollered across to Frank, who returned with a middle finger. Gianni merely laughed. The lights brightened, the bell rung, and Gianni pushed his weight from the Asylum cage and taunted at Frank, waving him in.

Frank brought up into his Krav Maga stance, he grinned, and ducked in low throwing a punch which was aimed toward's Gianni's rib cage, but Gianni spun back kicking his heel into Frank's hip, sending Frank off foot for a second. Frank quickly caught his balance, staring into the pitch black eyes of Jakob Gianni. He saw nothing. Nothing at all.

Not even The Heel of Gianni breaking air and landing across Frank's shoulder, sending him to the mat. The fiends in the crowd gave out a shout as Frank fell on his hands and knees. Jakob was in a groove now, and he brought his leg up straight into the hair, swinging it down like an axe across the back of Frank Minio who was now in a bad way barely a minute into the fight. Frank rolled clutching his back and Gianni was already screaming to hype himself to the fans who couldn't understand a word he said.

Gianni didn't care. He didn't care for a few simple reasons.

One being that his opponent was still breathing.

He was going to put a stop to that, goddamn it.

Gianni turned back to Frank, who was up on his knee's still holding his back, and hopped into the air, bringing the sole of his foot against the forehead and Frank, lifting his weight clean off of the Asylum's mat and sending him in a heap against the the cage. Frank was trying to scurry to his knees again when Gianni ran, jumping clean over Frank. Frank didn't know where he went but he began crawling towards the middle of the Asylum when the shouting of the fans caused him to turn around to look at the cage.

Gianni was walking along the edge of the Cage, arms in the air, piercing Frank with his black eyes, from his black soul, and his black heart. He was balance perfectly on the cage edge, and he pointed at Frank, grinning...

Frank crawled up to a standing position and charged, intent on knocking Gianni from his high horse, but Gianni was a step ahead, and leaped from the Cage side, over Frank, tucked in a ball... Frank had turned to follow Gianni, when Gianni's body exploded overwords, his feet both planting themselves in Frank's chest, this time throwing Frank's body against the cage, and almost over! Frank's feet left the ground and his back rolled over the top of the cage, but he held on for dear life and pulled himself back into the Asylum, barely.

Gianni on a page of his own, he was on a single knee, still grinning evilly at Frank as he pulled back into Jakob's pit of punishment. Gianni took a four point stance and charged at Frank with all of his weight, and for the first time since they began, Frank mounted an offence, taking his own stance, and planting a palm right in the face of the charging Jakob...

Time stopped.

Jakob heard his heart beating, once, twice, three times, he felt his body weight shift, as he was falling backwards, he watched Frank mouth the words "MOTHER FUCKER" in slow motion, he watched Frank's hand recoil from planting itself in Gianni's face, he watched the light above him, and he felt the impact of the mat behind his head.

Sound was slowly coming back, his eyes blinked, and he saw Frank hunching over him... He felt a hand grip his hair, and then an impact.

And another, and another, and another.

In REAL-TIME, Frank had slammed a hard palm strike on the moving Jakob Gianni, shouting "Take this, MOTHER FUCKER!" as he hit him. As Gianni fell, Frank floated over like a agile boxer, taking a knee beside Gianni's fallen body, gripping him by the hair, and then began punching him in the face. He was lifting Gianni by the hair, and then punching him back down to the mat, once, twice, three times, four times!

The crowd was screaming now as Frank was pummeling Jakob Gianni, after the fourth punch, Frank reeled his arm back, noticing it was now decorated with crimson, as Gianni's face was dripping, wet with blood. The time Frank took to look at his fist was enough for Gianni to catch his bearings, grabbing Frank by the ears, dragging himself up to Frank's level, face the face they sat for about a fiftieth of a second, before Gianni spit a gob of blood and spit right into Frank's eyes.

"FUUUUUUCCKK!" Frank Screamed as he released Gianni's hair and began clawing at his eyes... Gianni let him, and just as Frank's hands were over his face, Gianni slammed his forehead into them, driving Frank's own fingers into his face. Gianni Head butted Frank again, this time Frank fell backwards and Gianni followed onto of him. Frank was panicking below, and Gianni began to play with Frank, slapping him in between Frank's sorry attempts at covering himself. Gianni was laughing now, and he stood up over Frank, taking enough time to look down, Survey his victim, and then stomp on Frank's breast plate.

"AAHHHH!"

Frank released a deep howl as the wind was stolen from his lungs... He rolled onto his belly gasping for air and Gianni took advantage, kicking Frank's ribs, kicking Frank's back, kicking Frank's arms, everywhere, a barrage of kicks, that Minio couldn't even recognize, he was in a whole different world after the beating he just endured.

Jakob stepped away, raising his arms to a chorus of Boos, it was slowly becoming his life blood. Frank was still rolling around on the ground, and had landed on his side when Jakob turned to him and kicked his square in the stomach, sending Frank into another roll landing against the cage edge. Frank was now laying with his back against the cage, holding his gut, scraping the world for air... But all he would get in return, was a view of the bloody and grinning Jakob Gianni, running towards him, launching from the mat, drop kicking Frank in the face against the cage!

"OOOHHHH SHIT!" A collective shout from the crowd rang out. Most though that frank was DEAD after that shot. Gianni sat up, laughing now, looking at the blood pouring down Frank's face. It dripped from the top side of his face, over his eyes, over his nose, and down into a small pool on the mat. Gianni saw potential, and stood up, grabbing Frank by the ankles, and began rolling Frank onto his face.

Minio's face splashed the blood in every direction around the small pool, the warm liquid causing Frank's eyes to blink, he realized where he was, and what was happening, and he gripped the cage edge, his fingers intwining into the loops of the cage side. Gianni began tugging at Frank, the resistance lifting Frank off of the mat, his arms stretching, but he pulled his weight back towards the cage.

It was a tug-a-war between Frank's arms and Jakob's grip, but jakob was winning, the blood and sweat on Frank's fingers was causing him to slip, causing his grip to begin losing it bearings... He was fighting a losing battle.

Gianni pulled.

Frank's grip fell weaker.

Jakob's grip grew tighter.

He pulled.

He yanked.

Frank began to groan under the pressure...

"FUCKER!" Was the last word Frank was able to shout out as Gianni pulled as hard as he could. Frank's fingers lost their grip, and his body flew about three feet off of the mat, but he crashed down, face first in the pool of his own blood, and Gianni dragged him around the Asylum wheel barrel style, streaking Frank's blood around the perimeter, using Minio's face as a paint Brush.

Little pretty Trees.

Finally when Frank's face was sliding like a well oiled wheel around the mat, Jakob swung with all of his might, and Minio's body slid against the Cage edge with a huge Crash as the entire Asylum shook.

"HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!" were the chants as the fans watched Frank Minio getting completely fucking MANHANDLED by Jakob Gianni. Jakob had been laughing since he first landed the sickly baseball drop-kick to Frank's head. There was no mercy in the Asylum's ranks, and even less in the Asylum's cage right now.

Jakob stalked over to Frank, ripping the bandana off of his head that somehow, magically, hadn't fallen off after the Unmerciful death drag Gianni had just put Frank through, and wrapped it around Frank's throat, sitting on his back in a camel clutch, choking Frank with his own Bandana! Frank was clawing at the Bandana, trying with all of his might to get his fingers under the bandana to no avail. Jakob was giggling, it was insanity, he was giggling like a school girl, staring down with his cold black eyes as he choked the literal life out of the team Flatlined's leader in arms.

Frank became white as a sheet, and his hands dropped, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he went completely limp. Gianni felt it, he felt Frank's will drop to nothing, and he gave one more shake of the choke hold before dropping Frank's head down and standing up in victory, raising his arms high in the air, laughing hysterically.

Gianni kept the blood soaked bandana as a token of a kill well done.

But something was wrong.

The fans were screaming.

No bell had rung.

Jakob was an intelligent man when he wasn't being as crazy as a shit house rat. That part of his persona was begging to come out, saying 'Turn around, turn the fuck around!'

And he did...

And there stood a very beaten, very breathless, very bloody, very PISSED OFF ... Frank Minio.

Gianni stopped laughing.

LEFT HAND! Gianni reared back... RIGHT HAND! Gianni stumbled over... LEFT! RIGHT! LEFT, RIGHT! Frank was throwing everything he had at Gianni, blood sprayed the air every time Frank's arm's moved. Gianni fell backwards against the Asylum's cage with his head hidden under his arms, trying to get a second to get his bearings.

"Its called playing Possum, you wackjob fuckhat." Frank mocked as he took a knee, grabbing Gianni's forearm with his left hand cocked back to fire another lethal blow at his assailant... but just as he pulled the arm away from Jakob's face, a spray of blood covered Frank's face! Jakob had sucked up all of the blood in his mouth and used it Tajiri poison mist style on Frank Minio!

Frank fell backwards on the spot, temporarily blind, while Jakob used the Bandana to wipe the blood from his eyes. Jakob sat onto of the writhing Frank Minio, pinning his arms back before whispering...

"I know what Possum is, chump."

And then, he fired off a brutal head butt to the downed Flatlined leader.

And another.

HEAD BUTT!

HEAD BUTT!

HEAD BUTT!

HEAD BUTT!

Frank was on the verge of unconsciousness, and Jakob leaned back from straddling Frank, and began laughing hysterically, laughing loud enough for the audience to hear. The Arena grew silent as Jakob Gianni began head butting Frank again, laughing in between impact.

HEAD BUTT!

"BWAAAAAAHAHAHA!"

HEAD BUTT!

"HAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!"

HEAD BUTT!

"MUAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

HEAD BUTT!

"HAAAHAAA HAAAAA!"

Frank's face was glistening, soaked with his own, and Jakob's leaked liquids. Frank was barely gripping to life, and he knew that if he didn't do something now, Jakob Gianni would murder him right here, right now. He saw through red and half closed eyes as Jakob leaned back laughing, and then he watched as Jakob leaned in for another head butt. Frank used all of his might to move his head barely an inch to the left, and Gianni had his eyes closed for impact, driving to the spot he had driven nearly a dozen times before, but he barely caught the edge of Frank's head, and their well oiled faces covered in blood caused a deadly lubrication which Gianni slipped on, head butting the cage instead of Frank's skull.

Gianni rolled back, and Frank snatched the Bandana, crawling up in impossible pain, rolling Jakob onto his belly. Jakob's head was in his hands, and Frank took the bandana, putting it into Gianni's mouth like a horse Bit, wrapping the edges behind Gianni's head, holding onto them with one hands like reigns of a wild animal. Frank pulled Jakob's head back, and used his left fist to drive a brutal punch to the back of Jakob Gianni's head, slamming him down face first into the mat.

Frank waited a moment... And Jakob began moving...

He pulled his head up, and slammed another wicked fist down.

*WHAP!*

Another moment... Jakob moved again, clawing at the mat...

*WHAP!*

And another, and Jakob was STILL CONSCIOUS!

*WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!*

Jakob was now face down in a pool of his own blood, his skull imprinted into the mat which was covered edge to edge in stained blood now, but he didn't move. Minio looked around, and punched once more for good measure.

*WHAP!*

"I'm a fucking Survivor, Gianni." was the last words Frank uttered before the bell rung.

*DING DING DING!*

Frank dropped the reigns of Jakob Gianni, standing, brushing himself off, and then he stumbled to the edge while the crowd cheered and blood by El-P played. A fitting ending for a man nearly covered head to toe in his opponents, and his own blood. He barely made it over the cage as he stumbled up the ramp, no question, collapsing right behind the curtain unconscious.

Meanwhile, Jakob Gianni was still unmoving, but barely breathing, in the bounds of the Asylum.

He’d told people that there was more organizing and public service duties to be fulfilled for the Show, but he really just needed a drink.

“Shut the door,” he grunted as he flipped on the light switch, then collapsing in the chair behind his desk. Thanh obliged, then sat down in front of him.

“Stupid gits,” he moaned. “Stupid Weed, stupid Cheeno, stupid Carnage, stupid fucking Asylum...” Joe took a deep swig of his cup of Beam. “We need more re- enforcements. We need more muscle, because, let’s face it Thanh, I can’t put my full trust in you.”

That last statement made Vactor readjust his posture, looking at Joe with poise.

“AH! I’m joshin’ ya, you fuck!” The deep breathing caused Joe to cough up cigarette smoke from probably three days earlier. As soon as he caught his breath, he looked at Thanh again. “But seriously, some extra insurance would be swell.”

Ring ring. Yes, it’s a predictable plot device.

“Hello?

“Fletcher? What the hell do you-

“The car- accident kid?

“...OK, send him up.”

Joe ended the call, sliding his cell phone in to his jacket- pocket, then turning back to Thanh.

“That was bloody- fuckin’- scary,” he said. “Well, mate, we may have another in our rankings...”

Donovan is flat out crazy. Hearing the mysterious and mystic voices in his head; as they called out to him. What they were saying is not totally known, but very few… less than a handful could understand. God is coming for Donovan in his mind… and god will eventually capture him, so Donovan does his bidding. That’s the one thing, the tA newcomer feared the most. That day when god reached out to him and strangled the life into him… or out of him. You take your pick to which one, you think applies. Donovan wondered in the dirty and griming Asylum hallways; blood on the ground and whatever bacterial disease, waited for a host. Donovan’s shifty eyes moved around the corridor; lips moving at an un- intelligible speed as one of the boys, watched from a distance.

This man watched from afar as the paranoia built in Donovan’s soul. Going from emotions like terror to anger, back to the frantic horror of the unknown coming for him. That’s when he smirked. He knew Donovan was the perfect candidate for whatever cruel ideas that floated around in his mind. Which was maybe more dark; more disturbing then anything Donovan ever experienced, in his deepest of nightmarish slumber. Osyrus came from behind his hiding place, a near by corner as he made his way to Donovan. Every step echoed in the quiet hall as Osyrus calmly approached the tA new comer. Osyrus’ smile grew and grew the closer he got. Only if Donovan could read minds; maybe that would have helped him see, that the worst was coming for him at that every instant.

Now I return you to the present.

“I have always heard them, taunting me… torturing me in my sleep, to do their bidding. But now I have found another that truly understands me. Maybe I was destined to meet you in this hell called the Asylum, Donovan. His voices will not hurt us any longer. We will bring our lives to a small piece of normality… and get full control again.” Osyrus put his left arm on Donovan’s right shoulder; quietly whispering in his ear… as if he didn’t want any of the invisible people in the hallway to hear him.

“But they’re here to get us. His followers are here in the Asylum as well, right now… trying to capture us and confuse our minds from what is wrong and what is just cause, as we do his evil biddings.” Donovan started to look around frantically, becoming more scarred but Osyrus caressed him by pulling him closer. “Don’t worry dear Donovan, I know who they are. I have the gift to see through their disguises. Do you want to know who they are? Osyrus’ voice fell in a lower pitch, enticing Donovan to reply quickly… or the secret would be trapped in Osyrus’ mind forever.

“TELL ME SIR. TELL ME.”

“Don’t call me sir friend, the name of the man that stands before you wisely is Osyrus.” He finally introduced himself as he smirked evilly. Osyrus knew that Donovan would believe anything he told him at this point. The twenty-five year old San Diego native had this young man, wrapped around his pinkie. And Donovan was gullible to enough to believe the false knowledge, that this fake prophet was filling his mind with. Even if Osyrus told Donovan his name was Joe Campbell… Donovan would fall for it; hook, line and sinker.

“One of the men you need to stay away from, his initials are ‘JC’. He is the one that torments many souls on this earth; like yourself and yours truly. I can’t tell you his whole name, because you would probably kill yourself… knowing that you have already fell into his trap. But I can tell you one of the people that follows his orders closely…” Osyrus paused as he turned Donovan around, as someone entered the hall way from a dressing room. It was Osyrus’ opponent tonight… Jade. Donovan’s eyes fumed with anger, laced with confusion as Osyrus nudged him forward as he softly whispered into his ear again.

“Go Introduce yourself.”

John C. Willis Vs Sebastian Thompson
(Black Tournament Fight)

At its peak, the Extreme division was as competitive as the main event scene and even on its deathbed it spawned an enthralling three-way feud between fan favourite Ty Hughes, The Freak and the new chief in this company, Token Weed.

On the other hand, the abdication of the U.K. Title was welcomed by many. In certain ways, it mirrored the WWF’s introduction of the European Championship in May 1997. It was a testament to those who had supported them in Great Britain and although the intentions were good it proved to be more of a liability than an asset, a hindrance rather than a help though some critics may well argue Villam Ender’s emergence as a player stemmed from his affiliation with the Asylum’s tribute to the ‘Home Nations’ whereas its WWF counterpart only served to enhance Shawn Michaels’ ego and enable him to coin the ‘Grand Slam’ label we hear so often nowadays.

Regardless, the two Asylum Titles were both scrapped in order to shaken things up and pave the way for Joe Campbell’s latest idea - the Black Championship.

It started well. The Freak, the Extreme Kingpin, at the time beat Miles Blunder, his U.K. counterpart, to unify them and become the first Black Titleholder.

However, Brian Fenn-Grail has been nowhere to seen since Fight Hell and hasn’t really been the same since he was shot during an integral encounter with the callous Kellen Kinkade.

Therefore, it’s fitting that two participants in what they hope will be the first fight of four (resulting in a victory over The Freak at the next Pay-Per-View if it goes according to plan) closed their conflict at the biggest show of the year.

John C. Willis has hung around with the big fish since his defection from the underground to the television. He’s been in there with three former World Champions: Ruben Ross, the fWo legend and Stranglehold member, The Inmate, an Asylum institution in his own right, and the aforementioned Ender, who was dubbed ‘God of Fight.’ Unfortunately, the former Fighting Zone trophy holder doesn’t own a victory over any of them and has instead been changed from an intimidating monster to a gentle giant who wouldn’t scare a snail.

Sebastian Thompson is six inches smaller and a hundred pounds lighter than his rival. However, those useless statistics didn’t stop Sebastian from battering the beast in their meeting at the third Fight Hell.

Bearing the tale of tape in mind again, I can’t make my mind up can I; Thompson is definitely one of the toughest cookies in a corporation full of them, particularly pound-for-pound. The 30-year-old has an all-round arsenal that allows him to prevail in a variety of ways and that adds up to a fearsome Fighter with a bright future in this federation.

In years to come, people may look back on this night as a landmark. The night the Black Title really became apart of Asylum folklore and the same Show in which (insert name here) came into his or her own.

Could Sebastian Thompson - or John C. Willis for that matter - be that man?

‘Here Comes The Pain.’ Would it? Well only John C. Willis had that answer as he emerged from the curtain and spat out a piece of Chewing Gum en route to the ominous steel structure. The audience was in awe of this sensational specimen’s sheer size but at the moment that was all he had been. A picture amounts to a thousand words? Not in this case. His win-loss record was worth more than anything in assessing his impact (or rather lack of it) in his 11-month stay here. Nevertheless, those figures were also irrelevant when the action got underway. How would this behemoth, now no longer accompanied by Michael D’Alessandro and now aligned with ex-ACW associate Osryus, fare in a rematch with his conqueror from Fight Hell?

‘Jerk-Off’ was probably a fitting theme for Thompson as the observers echoed. His appearance, specifically a smug smile that would rival his home state Pennsylvania in terms of size, bugged people and he thrived on that. Let it be known though that Sebastian is not only a pile to society with a mouth on him but a useful employee to Joe Campbell with a style that befits the business.

They wasted no time whatsoever and shared a few words, which were whispered and probably not too flattering in either case, before the conceited Sebastian turned away from the Kokomo Colossus and pointed at him while laughing at his expense. Needless to say, the taunting didn’t please the powerhouse one bit and he retaliated in typical fashion by tossing an unbeknownst Thompson into the unforgiving mesh, head-first to boot, and that kick-started this contest.

He hauled his opposite number up effortlessly and introduced him to the wiring on a further three occasions and now the 209-pound athlete who was born into a wealthy establishment, surprisingly, didn’t have a lot to say or smile about for that matter.

Instead of permitting the official to begin a count, the ex-TLW competitor brushed the middle man aside and then regretted it when the sneaky Sebastian caught him square in the crown jewels. Although it didn’t ground the gargantuan, who was winded by the cheap but effective tactic, a Lou Thesz Press sufficed and gave Thompson an opportunity to unload on his one-time tag team partner, the combination being assembled by the Boss and that wasn’t one of his better ideas, with a few fisticuffs that did damage the Fighter’s forehead to a degree yet couldn’t hold him down long enough as John grabbed Sebastian by the throat and caused separation with one wicked blow to the nose that forced Thompson to attend to that part of his face and the referee started his maiden count…

1
2
3

Sebastian was now up and his adversary, just trying to shake the cobwebs loose and get his act together, wasn’t far behind.

The Pittsburgh native extended a thumb to the eye of his Indiana cousin (figuratively speaking) and went downstairs with a wicked kick to the abdomen area before drilling Willis with a DDT and standing back to admire his work thus far…

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5

At the halfway mark, John regained his vast vertical base but was met by a hellacious Headbutt to the jaw, which staggered him slightly, a spit to the face and to add injury to insult a Heart Punch that connected with the Kokomo Colossus’ chest perfectly though it still only winded Willis and didn’t deck him as planned…

But a fabulous Full Nelson Slam did and illustrated Thompson’s toughness because it certainly isn’t easy to manhandle a man the size of the artist formerly known as Spawned Terror, six feet seven inches and three hundred and fifteen pounds to be precise…

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3
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5
6…

Just as John was up to one knee, though marriage was the last thing on his mind, Thompson tortured him further with a couple of brutal boots to the temple and a Fist Drop that guaranteed the gargantuan was grounded for the time being…

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3
4
5
6…
Sebastian was frustrated that his final flurry wasn’t an improvement on what his previous effort had registered and what he didn’t bargain for was Willis grabbing his foot just as he was poised to deliver another swing to the stomach or head. What made it even worse, for him at least though the audience certainly approved was that John gained revenge by ‘accidentally’ burying his head between the aggressor’s legs though it wasn’t in the way you’d want Jenna Jameson to do it.

1
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3
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5

Slowly but surely Sebastian was recovering. Meanwhile, John was also starting to stir as he hit his head repeatedly in order to psyche himself up and regain his bearings not that they play much of a part at the best of times.

6

Thompson was up.

7

Willis was too.

The homegrown star who came through Smilthy’s, the group which Joe Campbell fell in love with and in turn created the Asylum, swung with a wild Lariat that missed and the behemoth, who used his brain for a change, applied a Sleeper though that was promptly eradicated as Sebastian had enough savvy about him to counter the hold with a well-timed Jawbreaker that hurt him but affected his opponent even more.

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4

The Pittsburgh-born combatant recuperated rapidly and was determined to avoid letting valuable seconds pass by and book his place in the second round. After helping John up, though not for his own good, he mowed him back down with a stiff Short Arm Clothesline and inflicted three elbows to the throat, which knocked the stuffing out of the ex-Zone affiliate even more.

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Sebastian had made the elementary error of turning his back on proceedings and chose to incense the crowd instead, which merely consisted of him smiling in their direction and them jeering him for it, and by doing that he didn’t notice the Indiana native was up nor was he aware that a fan had thrown an empty bottle of alcohol into the dangerous domain. While Willis could have murdered a drink, he could compensate for that and just murder the arrogant individual who dared to take him for granted…

John growled at Sebastian, who after turning round saw a weapon come towards him. As opposed to sidestepping it, he foolishly caught it, probably believing that the giant was giving it to him as a present because he doesn’t know any better, and was stunned when the ex-Spawned Terror showed the intelligence and agility nobody would ever expect him to produce with a devastating Dropkick that sent the bottle back into Thompson’s face!

He went to the floor like a ton of bricks and with the amount of crimson that he had lost a Shark in Sydney could have smelt it.

1
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3
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5
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7
8…

Sebastian continued to frustrate the fans and on this occasion he had exceeded everybody’s expectations just as John had in order to subject Sebastian to the mess that was conveyed by the claret that covered his face.

Although Thompson hadn’t surrendered, his precarious predicament was even blatant for the beast to see. Ultimately, he was…

Lamb to the Slaughter.

Not one to be a sacrificial lamb however, Thompson stunned the fans that were starting to get behind the almost victorious Willis, into complete silence. Struggling away from John's grip, Thompson was able to draw back and land a totally devastating 360 degree elbow smash.

The point of Sebastian's elbow caught Willis right in the jaw and sent one of his few remaining teeth flying through the air with a spray of blood not far behind. John collapsed to the canvas in a heap as the official made a count, it seemed however that certain individuals weren't expecting the big man to stay down, because not long after the ten count had been issued and Sebastian Thompson had been declared the winner, a revenge seeker arrived on the scene looking quite surprised.

Inmate was quickly on the scene, but unfortunately for him... the crowd noise made upon his arrival was enough to alert Thompson, who quickly leapt out of the Asylum and into the front row of the crowd. If Inmate wanted to pay back Thompson for his actions it seemed as though he'd have to wait a week. Or perhaps not, the crowd didn't like to see anyone running from a fight and were quick to try and prevent Thompson from exiting through the stands.

WHACK.

WHACK.

WHACK.

"Now get the fuck out of my way, unless you want some of the same."

The fans seemed far more willing to part after witnessing Sebastian smash the face of a teenage fan into oblivion though, as the young man fell to the ground amongst his own blood and shattered fragments of his spectacles, Thompson made an exit as the unscathed winner.

“I’m fucking sick of you saying nothing, John. Are you that dumb, that you can’t comprehend what I am saying to you? You just sit your ass on that toilet and yell from here to fucking Australia… yet I ask you a simple question, and you keep your damn mouth shut. What’s wrong with you Willis?” Osyrus paused as he sighed and became more frustrated.

“I’m not here to scare or bully you. Even though I fucking well should. That’s what’s wrong with you Willis. You’ve never had anyone try and motivate your ass, and when someone does… it’s like they are speaking a foreign language to someone that barely understands English.” Osyrus just stared down at Willis’ nappy dreadlocks as his head was looking at the bathroom tile. John C. Willis was in a world of his own, and Osyrus was going to make that fictitious world crumble around Willis’ feet.

“I am a scary judge of talent John. They can’t buy fighters like you from the grocery store. And you damn sure can’t train wrestlers to be like me. Hell, I am a man that comes once every thousand years. A being that should be worshiped for the greatness, that will come in the future. We can help each other John. You’ve got everything going for yourself except that you’re poor; uneducated and can’t fight for free pennies in a fucking water fountain.”

Osyrus slapped John in the back of his head, Willis looked up as he growled angrily.

“We’ll change that though John. Do you hear me? We’ll change that.”

As usual; Willis grunted but it was unsure whether that had anything to do with his duties tonight… or his indifferent response to Osyrus. A knock at the door disturbed the wrestler’s concentration, as he whispered to Isis…

“Who is that?”

His accomplice shrugged her shoulders, asking Osyrus permission to speak.

“I don’t know until I answer it… do you want me to?” A voice was heard on the other side, calling out to the giant sitting on the toilet.

“John, are you in there?”

Osyrus revealed the mystery to who it was, “It’s Michael what’s his name. Shit. He’s a friend of John.”

“How do you know that? I thought you hadn’t seen him?” Isis went out of character, speaking before she was spoken to as Osyrus growled at her… grabbing Isis by her burgundy locks. Osyrus gazed into his servant’s eyes, ”I haven’t but it doesn’t take an Albert Einstein to figure out, that he doesn’t have an American accent. Now does it?”

Isis pointed to herself to speak, Osyrus allowing Isis to do so, as he let go of her. “Well, what are going to do?”

The impressive specimen softly uttered his response, so John wouldn’t hear him…

“We’ll get rid of him.”

“ I think it’s real sweet of you to be walking to me to my car, Damon.”

Damon’s eyes were more directed towards the waning moon overhead before the comment snatched him from the realm of illicit daydreaming.

“Fo’ sho‘…It‘s nothing…I just don’t want to have you run into any of these crazy motherfuckers that I work with…Cause these fuckers are capable of anything, know what I‘m saying?”

“Well, it’s not everyday that a man looks out for a woman like that…” As Damon placed his arm around her slender waist, she instinctively nuzzled close to him. The parking lot beheld an unsettling element for both parties, leading Damon to tread carefully with an ever watchful eye.

“I’m not sure if I am ready to leave him yet because my kids need to have that father figure in their life…

Each hallowed step seemed to dredge on as if they were walking in slow motion. The intuitive nature within the armed forces veteran flicked on the proverbial ’autopilot’ feature in his head, suppressing the insignificant rambling taking place. The current issues within her broken home were irrelevant to him for that was not his problem. His perception of his immediate surroundings remained at a hyperactive state where as her points, continued to fall upon deaf ears. There were other things remaining on his agenda that mattered to him most and the very last thing Damon wish to be was an ’emotional tampon’
’..And so anyway, he starts acting like that I’m not…

Damon’s attention span fell upon a jury of conflicting judgment; In one perspective, it was building a intermediate sense of rapport between both of them. His timely nods and facial expressions, created a surreal bond of complete understanding…

But in a realistic sense, his mind was beginning to run it’s own pornographic version of Sports Center; Mentally reliving the vivid recap of video taping another man’s bride-to-be, getting unceremoniously fucked in a maintenance office. The same woman, who was living on both sides of the truth. Having re-harnessed his every wandering mind, he watched her lips, continue to rhythmically bumping. A subtle clip of Charlie Brown & his grade school teacher talking, whisked across his mind before snapping back to attention. Watching her working to adjust her awkward stride left him embittered in a struggle to keep a comical smirk at bay…

“Well…Here’s my ride.

Damon nodded with a slightly blank expression as the light skinned honey fumbled with the keys in her purse. The expelled trail of vapor rolled from Damon’s lips into the cool depths of the night as he reached into his jacket pocket, unfastened the strap and put his concealed pistol on fire. Exuding the slight traits of a gentleman, he opened the door for her and allowed her safe passage into her car. The V-6 engine cut into the air with a crisp start before the passenger side door was unlocked. Damon slipped into the car with a sense of urgency.

“Thanks for the ‘therapy‘, baby.”

“Anytime…But you better be heading home right now. It's a long trip back home to Detroit, you know?”

She rolled her eyes reluctantly at the thought before slipping an intimate kiss with her ‘special friend’. Despite her frequent attempts to ‘break the rules’, she bit her lip & swallowed her nagging emotions within before running her hand against Damon’s thigh. She knew her place was back at home with her significant other…At least until her next scheduled ‘appointment’.

“You take care, Duchess. I’ll holla back at you later, aight?”

She smiled & batted her eye as Damon removed himself from the leathered interior hull. Watching the Midnight Blue 2003 Denali roll away from the parking lot, he remained standing alone in the scantily lit concrete until the luxury vehicle had became one with the southbound traffic…

CLICK! CLICK!

“Ello’ , Sunshine…”

It was if time had stopped for the Windy City native as he felt the metallic caress of 2 undisclosed guns, moderately pressed against both of his temples. His eyes narrowed shut as he slowly elevated his chin in defiance, exhibiting a look of complete submission unto his captors. The course British accent that kept ringing in his ears was marred with the stench of lukewarm alcohol. Sometimes you need not look for trouble…for trouble will sometimes find you. The hardened sound of dress shoes hitting the pavement led Damon, standing nose to nose with the ‘Black Heart of the Asylum’…

J O E S E P H C A M P B E L L

“…”

My…My…My…Well, look at what piece of shit just fell unto my backyard?

“…”

Taking a cigarette to his lips, Joseph Campbell ignited the extended tip of the nicotine stick before taking a slow paced drag & flicking the ashes unto the earth. Damon’s mind was quietly racing, expecting anything to take place. His weapon appeared to be more of a vice than a feasible liability as he used the corner of his eyes to weakly identify the black suited thugs, holding him down. Campbell’s breath reeked of hard liquor & poor hygiene.

“Now before you go & try to blow smoke up my arse about where you’ve been, I am going to let you personally in on a lil’ secret here, mate; No matter where any of you fucks go, I always keep track of my fucking money.”

Damon refused to offer any insight on his behalf for he was too busy formulating close quarters battle equations of freeing himself from harm’s way.

“ You blokes can put away the peacemakers…I believe that we have Mr. Jackson’s undivided attention.”

With the hired muscle standing at his flanks, the Chicago native expelled a muffled sight through his nostrils. In an act of complete disrespect, Campbell flicked the lit cigarette against the Asylum rookie’s chest. Damon watched the burning ambers freefall before splashing against the concrete’s rigid surface.

“You have to be fucking retarded or something’ to pull this kind of bullshit with me, Damon; I’ve got eyes & ears every fucking where you can imagine so if you think that I’m ever gonna allow some two bit jarhead jerk my china, you’ve got another thing coming to ya…”

“What the fuck you talking about, Joe…”

“I’m fucking talking about this little disappearing act you’ve been pulling as of late…Oh, you think I wouldn’t find out about you fucking around with that half assed Midwest Fighting circuit again? Did ya?”

Campbell appeared to be completely immersed with his anger yet Damon refused to give any ground. Damon shook his head to acknowledge his willingness to disobey.

“Times are hard, Joe. You should know better than any other motherfuckers out here. You’ve already got enough problems keeping this place together without wasting your time, yelling at me in the middle of a cold ass parking lot. I’m here to do what I do & get paid and that’s that…”

“You’re here because I allow you to fucking be here…You’re still breathing because I own your uppity black arse.”

Damon’s knuckles began to clench tighter with each passing moment.

“If my name is on your check, then that means that I own you; Your debt…Your bitches…Your soul, motherfucker. You fight whenever the fuck I say you should fight and that’s that. Got it?”

“Nah, man…”

The response promoted Campbell to be taken aback for a moment before offering a obviously fake chuckle to himself.

“The fuck you say?”

“Just like any of these bitches I choose to fuck, you’ll never own me. If I’m leasing dick out to them, the same goes for my abilities to you, Joe. So if you don’t like that shit, then that’s all on you. You’ ain’t not gonna punk me like the rest of these sorry ass niggas up in there because you’ve got life all fucked up then, homey. If you’re gonna end me right here right now, then so be it. It is what it is….Whatcha gonna do, Joe?”

The maniacal fight promoter took a stern look at both of his cronies before returning his gaze back at Damon. Scoffing led to a sarcastic chuckle as Joe led his men away towards the McMahon Stadium, leaving Chi town’s finest alone in utter solitude. Leaning against the lone streetlamp, Damon was free to breath a well needed sigh of relief.

Osyrus and Isis pushed their way through the double doors as they closed loudly behind the couple. But they were not alone on this night… on Osyrus’ shoulder was a large, dusty looking sack. Not just any sack; it was brownish with small holes punctured in it, and smelled to boot as Isis tried to hold her nose close… when her master wasn’t looking of course. The only thing missing was the word, Idaho potatoes written on it. Osyrus sighed before he slammed the bag into the concrete ground, as moans and groans emanated from inside. He kicked the bag, hoping the noises would cease… but they did not.

“I bet this will show Willis how serious I am to the cause,” Osyrus smirked as he opened the sack… seconds later, Willis’ manager’s head popped up. Michael’s face was covered with severe bruises and lacerations as he tried to keep one of his black eyes open. Osyrus punched Michael in the face with all the might; that his right arm had, blood flew from the English man’s face… that caused him to fall back onto the concrete. “This should leave a permanent scar over Willis’ chest. A scar so deep, that it pierces his heart muscle… hopefully causing cardiac arrest. When will John learn that we have to kill everything that makes him remember the man that he used to be? As far as I am concerned Mike, you did a shitty job of managing Willis. How could you let a man like that; fall down the ladder of success so fast, that his plummet went by like a blur. I hope you toke personal satisfaction in knowing that you helped this man fail. Instead of being like all the others in the Asylum; that rooted for a much superior man like John to fail, behind his back… You did it in front of his face. That act is unforgivable!”

Osyrus walked away from Michael’s bloodied body, before turning back to him quickly as he kicked him in the ear. Michael couldn’t even hold his ear in pain; due to being bound by his hands, and gagged with Isis’ G string… which was pushed far in his throat, Michael almost choked several times on his own puke. How sinister and cruel for Michael to meet his end that way. Osyrus pointed down at Michael as Isis slowly advanced on him… she kneeled down; pulling her underwear out of his hot, saliva filled mouth. Isis walked away as Osyrus crouched next to his victim; he took his index finger and wiped a small amount of blood off of Michael’s temple… analyzing it before Osyrus put it back on Michael’s neck.

“Why are you doing this?” Michael softly whispered, before he coughed up a bit of blood. Osyrus smirked before he broke into laughter as he moved so close to Michael’s face… he could feel Michael’s batted breath on his cheek. Osyrus moved next to the bleeding ear of Willis’ former manager before he whispered…
“Because I can, and there’s no one in the Asylum that can stop me.“ As he raised his head upward, much to Osyrus’ surprise… there stood one, Damon D Jackson. Osyrus couldn’t help but to laugh as he rose to his feet; then he stepped on Michael, who groaned when Osyrus’ 290-pound frame crushed his sternum. Damon looked UN fazed as Mr. Christensen moved his way slowly, but stopped short of his destination.

“Well look who it is, it’s mister Jackson. I wonder if there is any relation to Michael… Jackson. You know what Damon; the offer is still on the table. But your time is running out. You can finally say that for the first time in your career, you will be aligned with a great man. A man that has the whole cosmos at his finger tips… and is willing to share that wealth with you, of all people in the Asylum.” Osyrus paused as he walked around Michael’s carcass, motioning for Isis to stop his whimpering, his cries for Damon to help him… as she stuffed the under garment back into his mouth. Damon just shook his head in disgust. “If you choose to not join us Damon, you could end up like that,” Osyrus pointed down at the body that lay at his feet; squirming as Michael tried to get away, before Mr. sensitivity stepped onto the back of his neck.

“This is your life Damon, if you defy me. Imagine this as your body; battered, bruised and of course, very bloody. I can make it a reality, my Chicago native friend. Just as easy as Joe Campbell can fire your ass, and send you to the UN employment line… I can make your life a living nightmare, where you may never wake up. I could make you ponder whether or not, when and where you will breath your last breath of fresh air. Don’t believe me? Look into the mirror of the future.” Osyrus again extended his arms outward; waiting for Damon to embrace him, but that would not happen in this lifetime… when Jackson finally responded.

“You got me fucked up… Sounds really good, but that shit isn’t gonna happen. You think you know me, but you’re very wrong.” Damon walked off toward the entrance as Osyrus just smirked as he closed the bag, that Michael was contained in. “You’re wrong Damon, I know you very well and I will prove that next week my friend. Next week, you’ll find that out… The Hard Way.” Osyrus tossed Michael’s helpless body in the back of his truck, as Isis entered the passenger’s side as the couple drove off. There would be no doubt that Osyrus would return tonight; he had to compete in a match, to have the right to win the Black title tournament… something Osyrus thought was already his for the taking.

Confidence is a powerful thing. Especially in the hands of the wrong person.

And out from the back sauntered the supposed King of Poland, the delusional Asylum idiot, Eddie Scott Poser. He wore his trademark Burger King Crown with the world “Burger” crossed out and the word “Poland” written overtop. He held a scepter high, the only sparkling object that wasn’t being covered by the black duster he wore. The fans booed him, but they also cheered him. He had Asylum pride, even though he took that pride out on some of the Asylum’s most favorable stars.

He climbed into the Asylum cage, a calm and stern demeanor on his face. A microphone was bulging from his duster pocket, and he immediately grabbed it to address the fans. “Screw the games. Screw the little comedy sketch. I had this idea involving huge vats of whipped cream and some hungry hungry hippos, not the game, but actual hippos.” Poser’s brow squenched together. “But I’ve got business to attend to. I have the Asylum to defend. Defend from the rash of WRESTLERS entering this REVOLVING DOOR of what was ONCE a proud and true fighting federation.” Poser growled into the microphone. “And that’s on YOUR head Joe, lowering the quality of the federation for a couple extra bucks. Well, their DEATHS, will be on YOUR hands. And I’m going to give you the BIGGEST body, on your front door step.”

“Sylo.”

The crowd let out a hush gasp. Sylo may be a wrestler, but he’s one hell of a large wrestler, which means that he’ll be the hardest to bring down, the hardest to destroy.

Size still means everything, no matter who says it doesn’t.

And that’s when the seven foot, four hundred pound monster’s music started up.

Sylo Vs Eddie Scott Poser

Like a fly that was swatted away, Poser rebounded and came right back. He caught Sylo with a right hand to the gut that seemed to have little effect as Sylo raised his hands in a double ax handle, and tried to drive them into Poser’s skull. Poser ducked to the side, and caught Sylo with a shot to the ribs that sent a shot of pain up Sylo’s side. Once there, Poser went completely behind, and slammed a right hand into his lower back, which forced Sylo down to his one knee. Once there, Poser backed off a sec, and then ran full speed, catching Sylo with a knee to the back of his head that was much like hitting Sylo in the head with a cookie cutter sheet.

Poser slammed right hand after right hand to the back of Sylo’s head, before Sylo casually reached behind him and grabbed him by the wrist, and used that as a way to snap mare takeover Poser to the cage floor. Poser bounced off, rolling to his feet and clutched his right elbow and shoulder as if Sylo had dislocated it. He winced in pain, but he wasn’t going to let this get the best of him.

He charged, full speed, and leapt in mid air, arms extended as if he were Superman, and caught Sylo with a vicious headbutt to the gut that sent the bit man backwards, and into the Asylum cage wall. Poser however, fell down to the mat with a thud, rubbing the top of his head as if the move hurt him more than it hurt Sylo.

Sylo recovered quickly, and lifted Poser up by his blue hair. Once there, Poser fought back, delivering a few rights and lefts to Sylo’s gut and face, but nothing seemed to faze him. In a roar, Sylo delivered a massive clothesline that forced the King of Poland to do a Marty Jannetty flip, flopping down to the canvas and clutching his neck and head in immense pain.

With Poser down, Sylo dropped a leg onto Poser’s neck, remembering his wrestling training and receiving boos for doing so. He removed his leg, and tried to go for a cover, but when there was no referee counting, he simply got up off of his opponent.

1… And that’s when the count started.

2…

3…

4…

And Poser recovered, hobbling to his feet, coughing up a small bit of blood. He reached into his duster, in desperation, and pulled out his wolverine claws. He took a swipe toward the man beast before him, but Sylo was able to pull back enough that it only caught his jeans, tearing them slightly. There may have been a small bit of puncturing of the skin, but even if so, it was nothing more than a kitchen knife accident.

Sylo snarled, and that’s when Poser dropped his claws and shrieked in terror. Sylo chased him, and Poser ran away, calling out “Justice League and X-Men Friends, save me!” Poser was much quicker than Sylo, and once Poser reached the cage wall, he used it once again to leap off, backflipping onto Sylo’s shoulders in a moonsault.

But Sylo caught him, and attempted to pull him into his reverse DVD finisher. Poser however, had hooked Sylo’s head by the neck and was using his precarious position as leverage for choking the seven foot monster. Sylo gasped for breath as Poser locked on a dragon sleeper while being hung on Sylo’s shoulders, creating a T between them both.

Sylo dropped down to his knee, the lack of air very apparent. He was definitely become a bit blown up, gasping for oxygen and blood red all around. In desperation, Sylo recovered to his feet, charged toward the Asylum wall, and used his momentum and positioning to toss Poser head first into the cage like a lawn dart.

Poser fell to the canvas, the cage wall cutting up his forehead as if he had just been in a Cheese Grater match with New Jack. Sylo fell to his knees, his hand on his forehead to recover as well from his lack of oxygen. Each man was down, but Poser was technically the one “out.”

1…

2…

3…

4…

5…

6…

And using the cage wall, Poser recovered to his feet. Sylo was still trying to gain air, and Poser used this to his advantage. He reached into his duster and pulled out what looked to be a utility belt.

What goodie would Poser be bringing out next, a grappling hook?

Or maybe he could just bypass all of that and whip Sylo in the top of his head with the belt and its leather strap. The Metal of the objects attached to it clanged with his head, and after a flurry of blows, Sylo fell completely down to the mat for the first time all fight.

1…

2…

3…

But it wouldn’t be enough to put him out. Back to his knees, Sylo shook off the effects as best he could, as Poser charged forward, looking to clothesline choke Sylo to the mat by his utility belt. Sylo ducked, and Poser stopped inches from the cage wall. Poser turned around, his eyes wide as Sylo wrapped his hand around Poser’s neck. Poser screamed in pain, but it would be pointless, as Sylo lifted him up for the chokeslam, but instead, pulled him in for a VICIOUS powerbomb, a sort of reverse “Sick,” as Sylo would call it.

Sylo once again, however, stayed on top for the pin, winded, he didn’t know what else to do. And when he heard no count, he simply fell beside Poser, gasping for air.

1…

2…

3…

4…

5…

Each man fought to their feet, but neither was there.

6…

7…

And Sylo had recovered, but just in time to see fellow wrestler Jade standing on the outside of the cage. He immediately caught eyes with her.

8…

And Poser had recovered to his feet, but with Sylo’s attention elsewhere, he was confused. He saw him speaking with yet another wrestler filth, and that’s when he saw his opening.

“MARDUK! RELEASE YOUR POWER FROM WITHIN!”

Sylo turned around, eyes concerned that Poser was up, and received a STIFF superkick underneath the jaw.

Clothesline from Hell, Michigan.

Enough of a boot to send Sylo flying out of the ring and to the outside, right next to Jade, who took this as her cue to attack with fists of furry.

Poser fell to his knees, raising his hands in victory. He took a look at the outside, seeing his opponent and another wrestler going at it, and muttered the words “Let them destroy each other,” before heading to the backstage area.

And that’s preciously what they did. Jade delivered a few choice shots, enough to bloody up Sylo, before leaving to let it all soak in.

It’s doubtful Sylo would ever forget this day.

Welcome. To. Hell.

Michigan.

An imaginary blood stained; dirty and disgustingly filthy red carpet rolled down the ramp way, which signaled his eminent arrival to the Asylum dome. He had been seen all night backstage and in the parking lot on the Asylumtron, but this was the first time that the nasty fans of the Asylum caught their first glimpse of him in real life. Witnessing his tremendous physique as it strutted down the aisle… where he would flip off the audience members that annoyed him, spit on the ones close enough to be in range. This man ripped apart the morals, values and opinions that were the foundation of the old Asylum… so he could brain wash the die hard into believing the new testament of tA. As the white strobe lights started to fade, being replaced by deep purple… It was now time for Sunday school to begin on The Show.

Pull out the bibles that sat before you. Prepare yourself in an upright sitting position… because the sermon of hatred was about to begin.

When you were here before,
couldn’t look you in the eye.
You’re just like an angel,
your skin makes me cry.
You float like a feather,
in a beautiful world
I wish I was special,
You’re so fucking special.

Insert gritty guitar riff twice here.

But I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?
I don’t belong here.

Osyrus burst through the black skull curtain as the second verse of “Creep” performed by Radio Head played in the background. The purple lights flickered and flashed, Isis followed closely behind. Fluctuating the arena in between darkness and the dim light that was available. The tA fans wasted no time to boo as Osyrus did the one thing that made their jeers grow toward him… and that was ignoring them. He waited on the ground as Isis opened the cage door for him; he slowly toke his time entering the fighting structure. The wrestler stood in the center of the cage, arm extended as Isis put the microphone in Osyrus’ left hand. Radio Head faded from existence; Osyrus then demanded that Isis leave his presence, pointing back up the ramp to where she should be.. so he could be alone with his followers. No interruptions were needed on this night.

Osyrus wanted everyone’s full and undivided attention and had better well have gotten it.

“I’m almost there. Can you feel me getting closer Asylum? I have stepped onto the glowing path of success. But this path doesn’t lead to the bright Hollywood lights at the end of the tunnel; instead my friends…” Osyrus paused as he snickered. “It leads to deeper darkness, that my soul relishes for. Isn’t it remarkable that the first title; that will be wrapped around this monstrous physique, is a championship that represents everything about me. A title forged with history; infamous for destruction, cruelty and brutality at its most extreme extent amongst the weak… that try and comprehend it’s true meaning, like you people here tonight. And I must fucking have it.” The fans jeers didn’t stop one bit as Osyrus motioned the Black title around his waist. He continued to ignore the fans; which started to get under their skin, as Osyrus spoke with confidence and an air of superiority… when he had not proven himself yet, in their eyes.

“Can anyone in the Asylum…” Osyrus extended his arms outward to remind everyone that he was talking about them; and that was the only time he acknowledged their meaningless existence. “… really measure up to the expectations, that the Black championship has besides me? Is anyone willing to crush someone’s skull in between a car door fifty times to claim victory? Like what that piece of shit the Freak did to ‘The Son of God’ himself to win this championship first. Is any lousy fighter in the Asylum right now as I speak.. crazed enough to cripple body parts of a foe on this canvas; damn near kill someone twice in this place of battle… to prove the point I am trying to show idiots? And that point is that you have to really want to be the champion more than I do. And I don’t think that any one in tA does. Sure people want wins; they want to be viewed as a force to be reckoned with… But the true fact of the matter is, there’s a lot of pussies here in the Asylum. I have taken a good hard look around, and I don’t think this is an animal shelter… so what’s wrong with this picture? Why do I have to go through three other men, when the Freak should come to me? ” Osyrus paused as he cracked his knuckles, walking in smalls circled in the dome as the fans watched on.

“If the other members of the Asylum think that they are so tough and that they can walk away with something that rightfully belongs to ‘the personification of talent’… then news flash mother fuckers, I am about to burst your fucking bubble! I am the champion that will change the Asylum from the depths of its own personal hell, where all you sinners play and prosper. I will be the competitor’s name that is on the lips of all those who watch the tA, when they whisper… he’s going to be the one that will be on the very top of the Asylum mountain. That man right there that, will lead us back to the glory days of tA… The time when you were proud to call yourselves fans of the fighting federation, that is nothing but a mere shell of what was once greatness personified. Now it is nothing more than shit on stick; that the fans sink their teeth into, because they know no better like mere kindergarten children.” Osyrus chuckled as more pissed off faces formed on the people that watched his every move, as the camera panned the venue.

“After all the let downs and failures of men like Carnage, Blunder and Archangel; the list goes on and on of all the fuck ups that have graced the Asylum… who have held the Extreme or European titles and did nothing but give them a bad reputation. A bad taste in Joe Campbell’s mouth, and now they are no longer with us… thank the devil himself for that. It’s my destiny to bring those titles back to prominence. It’s way past due that the era of Osyrus manifested itself in the Asylum. Look at the present; champions like Cheno, who have held the Television belt and did nothing with it. Facing the most of un worthy of men, and should have been fired by Campbell weeks ago. Don’t believe me? Use your own ears if you don’t… listen to the cries and the baas of all the little black sheep; people who watch tA closely like the Peters, the curly haired little girls named Molly… and other intelligent fans of the Asylum, named Chris. Who want Osyrus to be their new lord and savior. The fucking Tony Montana of tA. But I don’t just move fast like a rocket, and I never blow up or die off in the end. Your arse better believe that sucka.” Osyrus smirked as the audience reacted negatively, every time the man in the cage paused. In this so-called reality, the former ACW wrestler never gave a fuck about the fans. Never had and never would. Osyrus would run them down with a monster truck on the high way of life, if they stood in his way… like he would do any Asylum combatant.

“The time is now Asylum, are you fucking listening? Or do you fans have your head so far up your asses, that the sound of my voice… isn’t penetrating your thick skin hard enough? Have you been paying attention to tA’s current events? Token Weed is now your world heavyweight champion… That officially means that the Asylum is going down the shitter in a heartbeat. When he grasped his clutches on that title, Kenny Rock must have rolled around in his grave, twice. But I don’t want to reign on your Macy’s Day Parade Sean… I didn’t think you could do it, due to the fact that you have no skill. No talent or charisma to fight your way out of a wet plastic bag. But I’ll admit you proved me wrong, this time.” Osyrus cocked his eyebrow to punctuate his punch line. “… I didn’t think a man that floundered his entire career, had it in him to win a world title. But if Borst and Inmate could do it more than once, then I guess anyone can.” He tucked the mic under his left armpit; Osyrus applauded sarcastically as if he cared about celebrating the victory. The complete opposite was shown by the people that were glad Token finally reached the top; popping enormously when his name was mentioned and continuing to chant his name during this part of Osyrus promo, before he rose the microphone up to his lips to take one more shot.

“Shut up! If he knew what was good for him, he would stay in the back. Do you know what you can do, that would really impress me more Mr. Sean Williams… hold onto your precious little silver skull belt, until I take it from you. We all know, especially these fuck heads chanting your name… it is much harder staying on top; than getting to the top. But enough about those losers, it’s time to discuss the immediate future… the real reason why I have come out here, to look at all your ugly ass faces.” Osyrus took off his black hoodie as he threw it to the ground. The audience saw his muscles flex as he became more intense, still creating mileage in the fighting structure. It seemed that Osyrus’ coolness stated to fade; his patience for the Asylum fans… and the Asylum as whole started to bother him internally, like cancer. Due to the lack of respect they showed him thus far tonight.

“Tonight in this cage, dome or whatever the fuck, you low life scum want to call it… I will tear the Jaded one apart. Doesn’t she realize how much I like to abuse pretty little women? Although she has never been pretty… nor is she anything womanly like. But it’s much more than just mere spousal abuse. I like the feel of their soft skin next to mine. The feel of their touch, no matter how sensitive or rough. And of course the taste of their lotion covered body, when I sink my teeth into it. Mmmm… good.” Osyrus licked his lips in a circular motion. “Jade honey, can you say that you are ready for that? Are you ready for the devious; the disturbing and sexual plans that I have waiting for us tonight? Do you know what it is going to feel like; when you bleed all over this canvas, as if your hymen was just torn, your crushed guts as if you were on your period simultaneously? How will it feel to be yanked around by your nappy dread locks; swung into wall and then into the cold concrete floor? You will soon realize that there is nothing that no one in the Asylum can do to stop me. Not even Joe Campbell. Not even you.”

Jade Vs Osyrus
(Black Tournament Fight)

JADE KICKS ASS
JADE KICKS ASS
JADE KICKS ASS

She was on her way to the ring now.

The Philadelphia, Pennsylvania native had a chance to advance in the tournament, to determine a number one contender for the Black title. Known by her real name outside of the Asylum; Jade Marie Hunter had to be prepared, if she was going to defeat the angry wrestler, that moved around the ring like an enraged bull. Snorting while kicking his feet off of the ground, Osyrus was looking to gore his next victim…who was luck enough to be one Ms. Hunter with merciless and unforgiving force as everyone expected. Asylum fans were more surprised as Puritania’s chorus kicked up in bass; the skull curtain separated once again as they saw a word, tA fans never expected to see in the history of the promotion…

KMART?!

The audience erupted when Jade strolled through the curtain with a standard issued Kmart grocery cart with numerous goodies. Steel chairs; kendo sticks, branches from the trees outside the building, crowbars and a large object with a red blanket covering it. Jade must have searched all over to find the items she did; pillaging the streets for the battle tonight, like a pirate on a deserted treasure ship. Osyrus only smirked arrogantly as the Jaded one moved the rickety shopping basket down the aisle; the bankrupt company probably would have a fit and a lawsuit on TNN would soon follow. But it would do them no good. The Asylum was the O.J Simpson on the judicial system… They would have gotten off eventually, whether anyone liked it or fucking not.. Osyrus continued to shadow box in the center of the ring as Jade pulled out a cheese shedder, and threw it through the open cage door at him. In this type of environment; these weapons could be used against Jade easily, as Osyrus shook his head in disgust as he kicked the food utensil back in his opponent’s face. The cooking lesson would not happen tonight, or would it.

Jade then reached for a kendo stick as she dove into the cage; the door was closed quickly behind her and the bell chimed, signaling the match beginning. The fiery female swung the stick with all her might at the taller Osyrus’ head, but he blocked with his triangulate blocking style.. placing his left hand over his left ear, making a triangle shape with his arm. He did the same to his right side by lifting up his right leg, when Jade tried to strike his right rib cage to no avail. Osyrus finally got tired of that, as he snatched the kendo stick from Jade’s hand… tossing it over his head as he smirked evilly at Jade, who was caught by surprise. She changed her strategy; throwing fast and furious punches into Osyrus’ rock hard stomach… as he stood there motionless, and not a flinch appeared on his face. The former bodyguard laughed before his right arm moved from his side… where it slammed into the left side of Jade’s face, in the form of an unforgiving jab. Jade was rocked back; and before she could even touch her face due to the pain… Jade got the wind knocked out of her as Osyrus drove a knee into her chest.

Osyrus continued to back Jade up against the cage with kicks and punches; but Jade was a fighter, she was used to being on the receiving end of an attack… and she knew how to counter it. UGH! Osyrus was momentarily stunned when Jade knife edged chopped him in the throat and followed up with a punt to the groin. She ran over to the bamboo weapon on the canvas; scooped it up in her hands and slammed it into Osyrus’ large thigh muscle. The sound of stick hitting flesh echoed in the venue while the fans rallied Jade on with support as she continued the caning. It seemed that Osyrus had enough; again taking the weapon from the smaller Jade and smashed it against her face. Jade slowly picked her head off of the canvas, a small trail of blood moved down the center of her forehead. Osyrus stood proudly over the top over her, before he tried to choke the life out Jade by placing the kendo stick under her chin… where Osyrus pulled back as far as he possibly could. His knee touched the canvas; which gave him more leverage, besides the 6’8” frame Osyrus already possessed.

Jade would never say die as saliva spewed from her bloody mouth, while Osyrus yelled for her to give up as he released the choke hold slowly. Jade started to get up; kneeling on the canvas as the wrestling side to Osyrus’ personality came to the forefront. UGH! An elbow crashed into Jade’s spine as she yelled out in pain, another one followed more vindictive than the first… which didn’t sit to well with the Asylumites that wanted to see a Jade victory. Osyrus must have wanted to pin point the back and stomach region of Jade; picking her up by the seat of her pants, where he tossed her into the air. She came soaring down on the stone like knee; the modified gut buster that Osyrus left out for her to fall on. The female competitor tried to distance herself from the man; that was trying to cause her massive physical harm.. crawling on her hands and knees toward the exit, but Osyrus stopped her by grabbing her by the back of her green pants again. Osyrus lifted Jade up off of the mat; and she was back onto her feet, when Jade looked over her right shoulder… the point of the elbow was jabbed in Osyrus’ right eye quickly as she turned around completely to face a recovering Osyrus. A low blow to the mid section set up Jade’s face buster perfectly as Osyrus’ skull was driven in to the mat with authority.

Jade didn’t waste a second of her momentum; she reached down to pick up Osyrus’ head, before planting him into the Asylum dome’s hard surface with a sloppy Double Arm DDT. The maneuver was so awkwardly and so messily applied that it inflicted twice the damage. Jade’s big smirking facial expression told the story. That was the beginning of what she had in store; running down the metal steps that lead to the outside, Jade picked up a cheese shedder… and slide it over her hand. She waited until Osyrus got back to his feet, while he rubbed on the back of his neck as if really was starting to bothered him. POW! The cheese shedder uppercut sliced the skin off of Osyrus’ neck; he fell back onto the canvas, holding his bleeding and blistered neck. The Jaded one took off into a sprint toward Osyrus; she screamed like a banshee as got closer and closer. But Jade was not fast enough to react to Osyrus’ counter, he kicked her right knee cap so hard; that Jade’s leg buckled forward… where she flew face first into the cage. Jade got up quickly, the pain to her face was minimal and Mr. Christensen or Mr. Montoya as he liked to be called from now on. stood up angrily seconds before that.

She swung her loaded right fist at Osyrus’ left temple; but he blocked it and locked up her arm in an unorthodox clutch… the left arm, the right and left legs followed. Osyrus had Jade locked up tightly in “Maneater [Revisited]” before he leapt backwards; where he turned in mid air as he slammed Jade’s body, face first into the mat. Even though Jade had taken a lot of abuse, nothing would stop her. Pushing herself up with both aching arms, she turned around as a kick to the stomach floored her. Osyrus sat right on top of Jade’s breast; stiff and un blocked haymakers broke into her face as they connected. Fans booed but there was nothing they could do as Osyrus mimicked “Beserkergang [Revisited]” to near perfection, pummeling Jade’s face and will to fight on into submission.

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All Jade needed was a chance to get back to the cart of doom, that she so carefully pilled to the top with weapons of her choosing. But the large Kmart vehicle seemed to be miles away; as her back ached , and the pain in her face was relentless. Jade fought to reach whatever was in the cart, that give her some sort of edge over the powerhouse, that slowly stalked her… as he let her crawl toward it. Osyrus had a hand full of black tank top; he threw Jade back into far corner of the cage, as she rolled on the back of her neck and Osyrus closed the door shut. Being Black rules, ring out wasn’t an issue and neither fighter… or one wrestler and one fighter would have nowhere to hide and defeat would be inevitable. Jade got back to her feet while Osyrus was preoccupied with other things… He motioned for someone to come from the backstage area; seconds later, Isis would emerge to a mixed reaction. Her master was not pleased that she took so long to answer his plea… Osyrus frowned the closer Isis got the fighting structure.

“Bring me those fucking weapons now!” Osyrus bellowed as Isis struggled at first, and finally lifted the shopping cart into the cage, which looked like it weighed a ton. Osyrus returned his attention to Jade; whose banshee like shriek echoed and excited the crowd, as she tackled Osyrus down to the ground with a Lou Thez press. PA’s finest hammered down stiff over hand punches in the face of her adversary that promised she would bleed profusely. Jade stopped as she stomped Osyrus in the groin, before she walked over to the cart. Jade pushed Isis out of the cage for good measure, selecting a crowbar as Osyrus popped back to his feet with a kick up.

CLANG!

The metal tool bounced off of Osyrus’ face as he was reintroduce to the canvas. Jade stepped on Osyrus’ left arm first… before she stabbed him with the point of the crowbar in his joint muscle. He screamed out in pain, Osyrus spat on her as Jade smirked before she stabbed him again. After a few shish ka bob lunges into Osyrus’ helpless body; she mounted his chest as she pressed the metal to his throat. Thoughts of Osyrus earlier in the bout must have reentered her brain… trying to choke him out as he did to her.

Payback indeed was a bitch.

Osyrus’ eyes turned red not just with anger; but due to lack of air to his brain, as Jade pressed down with more pressure… the crow bar would have crushed his wind pipe, if his neck wasn’t so thick. Remarkably; Osyrus’ knowledge of wrestling counters came in handy… as he lifted his legs off of the mat, getting them under Jade’s arms with a modified sunset flip take over. Joe’s former bodyguard was on top. Pinning holds did nothing for Osyrus; and of course he knew that. This was not some fWo mid card match.. He jumped to his feet as Jade lifted herself up with her right knee, and up on one leg, quickly making it both. Osyrus kept the offensive with a stiff martial arts kick to her left leg; that lowered Jade back to a kneeling position on the canvas. A straight knee lift to the bridge of her nose, bloodied her face more and put Jade back onto the ground.

“Bring me that metal chair Isis. And don’t mean later.” Osyrus continued to kick Jade in the rib cage to keep her down, Isis opened the cage door and walked over to the cart. She had an indifferent expression on her face; didn’t care much about what Osyrus did to the people he hated, Jade’s moans of pain pierced her ear drums in the back ground as Osyrus stomped a mud hole in her ass and like god… tried to walk over it dry. As long as Osyrus didn’t harm Isis was her number one concern. If Isis defied her master, he might of killed her… she never intended to find out if that was true or not statement. Isis extended the chair out toward Osyrus as he grabbed it and walked behind Jade; who spat up the blood from her lungs on the canvas, but never gave up… no matter how much Osyrus demanded she do so. In this sick game of cat and mouse; he liked the game the longer it went on. His smirk widen as Jade used her last bit of strength to get up to her feet. Right now she was on one knee, looking toward Isis... who shook her head in disgust, before she turned and left the cage. Osyrus touched the steel chair against the canvas; before he spun back to Jade quickly, tilting the edge side of the chair as it cracked her in the neck.

“Life Muted In Utero [Revisited]” Another ‘The God of Fight’ classic.

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She slowly stirred as Jade pushed herself up. Surprisingly, Osyrus helped her up by grabbing a hold of Jade’s dreads… but enough was enough. And Jade had fucking enough. AWWW… Son of a bitch! Osyrus screamed as his voice echoed through out the venue as Jade’s fans cheered. They couldn’t help but to go ape shit after seeing Jade sink her teeth into Osyrus’ groin. He danced around; trying to knock Jade off, continually punching her in the top of her head, before she released the hold. A low blow followed for good measure. Just a little fuck you from the bottom of Jade’s black heart. Jade lunged for the chair to her far right, sliding on the canvas when Osyrus closed in on her. She kept him away as Jade slammed the chair into Osyrus’ legs in a sweeping fashion; and when the former two time wrestling champion got to his feet… the metal chair was wrapped around his head.

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The stars had stopped spinning around Osyrus’ head as he pulled himself up with the use of the cage. Jade went back to the cart as she lifted up the large, red blanketed item as the audience quieted with curiosity. She yanked the drape upward as Jade and the item disappeared from view… but when they were back in sight, the crowd popped tremendously. Leaning against Jade’s leg was a thick, car windshield. It was in perfect condition and not a scratch was on it; but could that be said in a few moments… as Jade lifted it over her head, waiting for the precise second that Osyrus would turn around. CRASH! He tried to put his hands up in time, but the glass frame still exploded into his skin… it sliced him in various places on his body as the blood ran like a leaky water faucet. Osyrus was leaned up against the cage; Jade went back to the hardcore Kmart cart, but he would not stay down for long… Osyrus rose to his feet as he got a second lease on life. He took off like a rocket toward Jade; who’s back was turned away from the angry black man. ‘The Beast’ dipped his shoulder as everyone recognized “Nowhere to Run, Nowhere to Hide” when they saw it… but it would not connect with Jade. It did however put a nice dent into the Kmart shopping basket, as the weapons scattered all over the canvas.

Osyrus’ adrenaline was pumping ten fold as he got up, almost as fast as he went down. When he turned back to face Jade; a cookie sheet blasted him in the face. Jade reared back and hit him two more times before going downstairs, back to Osyrus’ groin. She wrapped her arms around the wrestler’s neck… Jade ran forward as she drove the top of Osyrus’ skull into the cage. His head started to bleed when ‘The Jaded one’ batting rammed Osyrus’ head a second time for good measure. Also known as Blood Loss.

JADE KICKS ASS
JADE KICKS ASS
JADE KICK ASS

The momentum was starting to build in Jade’s heart now. She knew that she could take him down; Jade wrapped her arms under Osyrus’ throat with an Ace crusher type lock, Jade ran toward the wall. Amazingly, she walked up the Asylum wall; before she pushed off with both legs… turning toward the middle off the cage with an Acid Drop variant, but that would be as far as she got. Osyrus held his ground as he held Jade in the air. He smirked before adjusting her on his shoulder… as he slowly moved next to the shopping cart; spinning Jade out as Osyrus drove his elbow into her rib cage, and into the metal cart with a thud. “Convulsion” with out a doubt. Jade arched her stomach upward in excruciating pain, as Osyrus laughed but went back to his serious tone, while the heat on him was still hot. He wanted to make a statement to the fans that still chanted Jade’s name. Osyrus wanted them so badly and so desperately to shut up... And he knew of one way that would silence them for good. The type of silence you could find in a cemetery.

Osyrus reached down as he yanked Jade up onto his shoulder by her long black hair. She was still a bit dazed and confused, but very much still breathing as her chest rose up and down. Jade’s body was be stretched in the Argentina Back Breaker Rack before Osyrus viciously snapped her fragile famine body onto shopping cart… this time he made sure that Jade would stay down as Osyrus wished she would.

“Oblivion”.

It looked a lot more dangerous than usual, when Jade Marie’s face connected first before her body hit. She was out cold and as much as the fans booed, that wouldn’t empower her with the strength to her feet before the twenty count.

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“Oh no. It’s not going to end that easy my dear Jade. It’s not going to end that easy at all.”

Osyrus lifted her up by the back of her pants, right before twenty left the official’s lips. He tossed Jade onto his shoulder as Osyrus carried her toward the exit. Isis watched as her master calmly walked down the metal ring steps; the crowd wondered where they hell they were going, as Osyrus made his way to the crowd. Before he stepped over the guardrail, Osyrus whispered something in Isis’ ear as she walked toward the backstage area. Jade was dead weight as the humongous wrestler carried her through the live audience; fans tried to stop him, but he head butted them out of his way… finally he disappeared from sight as a pair of black curtains were separated.

It took the cameraman about five minutes to catch up to the action; Isis pushed the double doors open… the doors she exited out of earlier in the evening. The million dollar question was where was that sneaky bastard Osyrus? The camera panned fifty feet ahead where Jade’s body laid on the ground; in front of a black automobile...whose motor was running. Her captivator was sitting right next to her as he ran his fingers through Jade’s stringy dread locks. Osyrus looked down at her with big sympatric, crocodile eyes… his smirk revealed itself as he got closer to her face, before he rubbed on her ear and whispered into it gently.

“You know what’s the difference between you, me and everyone else in the Asylum?” Osyrus got quiet as he waited for a response; but Jade was still out cold, he slapped her on her face to wake her up. “Cat got your tongue honey… don’t be sad, I’ll tell you the answer. I actually do what I promise. If I say that I am going to wear that Black title; then you can believe it will come true, like a precognitive vision from a psychic. If I say that I am the best… and you doubt me; you will become a believer when you step into the ring with me. And for you my dear Jade; if I say that I am going to make you bleed,” Osyrus pulled out a big jagged dagger as he slightly rose it into the air. Well… I hope they have a transfusion ready for you at the hospital.”

AWWWW

Jade was awaken as the dagger was plunged into her right thigh; Osyrus quickly grabbed her by the head as he slammed it against the car door. She was momentarily stunned as he rose to his feet… where Osyrus opened the door and revved the engine, but did not get fully inside. “Ever since I saw the Freak and Steve Christ fight for the black title; I imagined months and months after Conflict, what I would do in that same situation. If I were there I would incapacitate my opponent; lay them on the ground in the dark, murky parking lot… and turn them in Joe Budafuco speed bump. Now almost a year later, I get to leave out my dream in my first Black fight.” Osyrus leaned down as he struck Jade in the face with the butt of the dagger.

“Guess what role you’ll be playing here tonight?”

The engine roared again as Isis watched from the double doors; she saw the automobile roaring in reverse, as Osyrus stuck his head out of the window and honked the horn. The tires burned on the asphalt as Osyrus punched the gas pedal; he flew at maximum speed when Jade miraculously got to her feet… she jumped out of the way, just missing the head on collusion. Osyrus hit the brakes; trying to get out of the car quickly but Jade was there to help him out… her right fist crashed through the window, and collided with Osyrus’ face. She opened the door; as Osyrus tried to take the glass from his eyes, but that waste of energy would do him no good as Jade slammed his head into the backseat window. If the two Asylum combatants were still inside, the Jade fans would have blew the damn roof off. Osyrus was now thrown onto the hood as Jade closed the driver side; sweeping the glass from the seat, and but the car in gear. The car once again roared before it flew straight toward the wall as Osyrus slammed into it, when the vehicle came to a screeching halt.

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“Is that all you got bitch?” Osyrus’ disorientated stumbling and slurred speech was understandable enough; that it was going to take something more to put down the raging lunatic of a man… who wanted Jade to bleed painfully. Jade smirked as Osyrus told her to ‘bring it’ then he flipped her off after nothing happen after a few seconds. The screeching tires began and off Jade went like a rocket…

The eyes of Osyrus widened as he quickly leapt to the side, all he had to do now was wait for Jade to hit the wall, then pick up what was left of her post crash to score a knockout victory, what he hadn't been expecting however was a third party, who had no second thoughts about shoving Osyrus back in front of the car.

Jade turned Osyrus into road kill as he was sandwiched in between the car and wall; pressed under the front of the car pinned to the ground. A smiling Sebastian Thompson slipped away having caused the complete obliteration of Osyrus, it seemed as though he had his own plan with regard to who would advance in the tournament.

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20!

Jade exited the car as she fell to the ground exhausted. She had advanced into the next round, after defeating the man that started to stir under the car. Jade started to slowly move toward Isis; but changed her mind… into the building she went to celebrate. Isis looked worried as her master grunted angrily then pushed the still running motor vehicle off of him. It took him about a minute before he could fully stand up right; internal bleeding was probable, the pain of knowing that he lost his chance, at getting a shot at the black tile felt worse than any physical damage… he had ever felt. As Osyrus slowly staggered toward the double doors; he knew that he had to find another to get back on the road to success.

Not because that was what he thought was right… It was because that was the way, it was destined to be.

Slapnutz sipped on his cocktail, whilst sitting at the side of the pool. About this time on a Sunday, he would normally be doing something stupid, being made to look stupid or getting beaten stupid. Now, he was watching hot black women go past serving all manner drinks. You see, Slapnutz had a thing for black women, or ‘ebony goddesses’ as he would often call them. He imagined one day starting up a family with a lovely black lady and having little coffee coloured children. TMM, on the other hand, hated children. He hated coffee, but he didn’t mind black people. In fact, some of the people TMM had conned were black. He was an equal opportunity con artist. Do you see?

“This is the life, isn’t it,” Slapnutz asked TMM, as the Scotsman pinched the arse of the waitress. It wasn’t the first time he had done it but it was the first time he had received any acknowledgement. Only problem was, the acknowledgment came in the form of a slap and a punch in the balls.

“Damn right it is,” TMM replied to his now fallen comrade.

Slapnutz tried to catch his breath whilst rolling on the floor. As he was doing so, a young man in a white suit handed TMM an envelope. As the young man left, Slapnutz rolled into him, sending them both careering into the swimming pool.

“Ummm, dickhead,” TMM called over to his saturated partner in crime.

“What?” Slapnutz spurted.

“The game’s up. Campbell wants us back and he wants us back now.”

“See, the logistics of that aren’t possible. We don’t have a time-travelling device, what type of high fliers does he think we are? So, unless he wants us to develop something along those lines in the next second, I suggest he calms down before I go home and kick his arse.”

“Yeah, right, whatever. I was kind of paraphrasing. He wants us on the next flight home or he’s sending one of his goons over to kill us. Exact words.”

Slapnutz had climbed out of the pool and was drying himself down with a near-by cat. He grabbed the letter from TMM and threw the cat at Mr Pink, who had been playing with his mouse all this time and hadn’t uttered a word.

“Blah, blah, kill, blah, blah, goon, blah, blah, Camp-blah. Yup, it’s all here in black and white. It even has ‘From The Pen of Joseph Campbell’ at the top of the letter.”

“No it doesn’t, you Scottish retard. Now, I say we don’t go back just yet. How does France sound to you?”

“French.”

TMM looked at Slapnutz in disbelief before grabbing him, Mr Pink, mouse, Zippy and Wincy Willis and frog-marching them to get their belongings together.

The Splink-sons were going to France… maybe.

Token Weed© Vs Nicole Carson
(Asylum Championship)

SCREAM

"Halo" by Soil kicked up as it blared through out the arena. Token stepped out from behind the curtain, his Asylum title held high aloft. He continued down the ramp and managed to enter the cage, he stood silently on the inside of his new found home, awaiting his next victim.

"Electioneering" by Radiohead began being played as Nicole Carson stepped from behind the curtain. A look of pure determination cascaded across her face. Her plan for the evening was rather simple actually. Fight. Like. Hell. The only way she'd have a chance of beating Token Weed.

The bell rang as Weed handed the ref his title. The second Token let the title fall into the ref's awaiting hands, he charged forward. The sudden charge stunned the ref as he dropped the title up against the wall of the cage... on the inside of the cage. Weed swung a wild right hand and Nicole managed to duck under it while shooting a jab into Weed's ribs. Weed doubled over as Nicole took a step back and took a rip at him with her signature axe kick. Token managed to roll out of the way, as he climbed back to his feet.

The bitch would be tougher than he thought.

This time Nicole took the offensive as she advanced forward, throwing the occasional kick to back Token up against the cage.

One thing the young lady managed to forget: cornered animals are very dangerous. Token struck out against her, landing two solid right hands to the side of her head which pushed her backwards. She was determind continuing an attempt at an assault by delivering a side kick to Weed's stomach which pushed him back into a confined area of the cage. Nicole once again went big as she showed a brief flash of brilliance last shown in the cage by Nerva. She went for a double touch.

Token instinctly dove to the ground as Nicole spun and air balled her attempt. Token brought up a huge uppercut that managed to hit Nicole in the chin and managed to once again knock her backwards. In Nicole's slightly dazed state she swung a wild right hand which led to one of the oddest moves in Asylum's history....

A Nipple grab.

Nicole shrieked in pain as Token swung a left hand forward that connected solidly with her nose. Blood instantly smeared across her face and into her white hair. Token cocked his left hand back and went for another jab to the face, but Nicole responded with a swift kick to the nuts that caught Token by surprise as he dropped to the ground giving a loud scream of "FUCK!"

Nicole stomped on Token a few times while holding her recently squeezed breast. The ref came over and began a count on Token as some where Joe Campbell sat smiling ear to ear.

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Token Weed was back to his feet, a mask of anger shrouded his face as he went forward connecting with several punches. Right hand, left hand, right hand, right hand, left upper cut. The blood smeer on Nicole's face continued to grow, her hair was beginning to take a rather pinkish form. With the last upper cut, Nicole spun backwards and landed on the rim of the asylum, her arms holding her up. Token took a step back and unleashed a furois hook kick, that connected with the side of Nicole's face. She slid across the cage rim before finally landing on the canvas.

The ref was once again over to count.

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Nicole Carson was not about to give up her big chance in the Asylum to a hook kick. She had promised herself she would give it her all, and she was in no way shape or form done yet. She was back on her feet, glaring across the cage at Weed who smirked.

"Had enough yet... bitch?" Token asked, he was comfortable. Nicole noted this, "Naa, no where near enough," Nicole responded as she cocked back and punched Weed in the mouth. Token had a shocked look on his face as Nicole fired a round house kick into Token's face that drove him backwards. Now Token was against the rim of the cage.

Token stumbled forward, meeting Nicole in the middle of the asylum. Nicole fired another right hand into Token's ribs as once again he doubled over. This time she would. not. miss. She took a step back and let an axe kick fly into the back of Token's head. Token hit the canvas with a thud as the ref made the count.

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Token was up once again, he glared across the cage as he checked his lip. The blood trickled down his fingers, he'd show her. Nicole wiped her lips of the blood that was still comin from her nose. She went forward at Token, this was her shot. She lept into the air trying to hit Token with his own finishing move. Token instantly reached up and grabbed her leg and tipped her backwards onto the canvas.

Nicole rolled to her feet, firing a right cross the was way off, but managed to get her point across. Once again Nicole tried a round house kick, this time Weed ducked under and took Nicole's legs out from under her.

"I guess you could say Nicole, I just swept you off your feet?" Token said smiling. "Fuck you" was the only reply Nicole gave as she went for a low blow, Token jumped backwards and gave Nicole a sharp kick in the face. Nicole tipped back and smacked her head off of the canvas. Token grinned as he pulled Nicole up to her feet and gave her two quick punches to keep her against the Asylum cage. He took a step back and flew forward devestating her with a pump kick.

That's when Token reached over and picked up his title. It became his weapon of choice as he drove it down onto Nicole's skull over and over again. Finally, he was satisfied as Nicole's beautiful peroxide white hair was now a crimson red.

The ten count was a sure thing.

"Halo" by Soil kicked up as The Show came to a close, and while the ten count had been a sure thing.

His status as the champion was even surer.